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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645857">Undertale: Left for dead</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damona999/pseuds/Damona999'>Damona999</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Verbal Doodling Corner [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Undertale (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Artificial contagion, Attempted cover up operations, Body Horror, Conspiracy, Experimentation, Failed containment, Gaster needs hugs, Good W. D. Gaster, Graphic descriptions of violence and injury, Isolation, Mentions of torture and medical abuse, Multi, Mutation, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Segregation, Similarities to Left 4 Dead franchise, Survival Horror, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Veteran Grillby (Undertale), Veteran W.D. Gaster (Undertale), Zombie Apocalypse, additional tags may be added later, questionable moral choices, racisim, skeledad, viral outbreak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:40:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>38,745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23645857</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damona999/pseuds/Damona999</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the most part, Gaster would say he'd had a decent life.<br/>It hadn't been easy, truly, the war being a prime example of how difficult times could become.<br/>But he'd survived it, along with his closest and dearest friends.<br/>He'd lost loved ones, certainly, but everyone had.<br/>There was nothing to be done but move on, keep living day after day, making the most of it.<br/>And that's what he'd done, for centuries, rebuilding the shattered kingdom's infrastructure alongside Asgore, Toriel and so many others that he would long outlive.<br/>He'd seen the worst their world had to offer.... or so he'd believed.<br/>It was just another day like any other, until The Core malfunctioned.<br/>One simple little thing, one stupid little thing, a problem they couldn't fix from the consoles.<br/>He couldn't remember what had gone wrong, but he remembered the look of horror on his son's face.<br/>How had Sans gotten there?<br/>He'd fallen.<br/>The last thing Gaster expected was to wake up on the surface or the horrors that awaited him there.<br/>Life had never been easy, he only hoped he would live long enough to see his sons again.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Verbal Doodling Corner [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740169</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So... a bit of history on this.<br/>No, it's not necessarily connected to the Shadow's Wake timeline, though it does take place just a few skips sideways in the multiverse.<br/>It's an AU that I've been poking at for a few years now in my spare time seeing as I haven't been able to work on my main project.<br/>Just something to blow off steam and not take all that seriously.<br/>Having said that... now that it's grown to more than one chapter, chapter being used loosely since they're very short.<br/>I think it's about time for me to start posting it since it's more or less outgrown it's status as random verbal doodling.</p><p>And... since I'm on that, I'd like to apologize for the... less than auspicious timing of this new turn of events.<br/>We face dark times and it is my hope that every one of you out there is safe and sound.<br/>It might not be very realistic of me, but I guess I'm more sentimental than I typically let on.<br/>So, until this whole mess blows over.<br/>STAY DETERMINED!</p><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gaster stared blankly at the grey cement wall across from him, his wisps flickering dimly. How long had it been since he saw another living soul? How long had he been imprisoned in this small grey room without light or warmth? He couldn't rightly remember when his isolation first began or how much time had passed. How long had it been since the door to his prison last opened? How long ago was it that last he ate? It felt like months since the humans bothered feeding him. Perhaps they were trying to see how long it would take him to starve to death? He was too exhausted to be afraid of that thought. His health had been steadily declining from the very beginning, when it became clear that the humans lacked the knowledge and means to properly see to his needs. The food that they brought him was always empty and bland, devoid of the magic he needed to survive. If he wanted to restore magic, he had to use magic. Which led to an endless cycle of diminishing returns that left him feeling frail and weak.</p>
<p>By now he was used to the shuddering feeling of pins and needles that circulated his entire being, as well as the creeping sensation of cold that never fully left him. But the one thing he wasn't used to, the one thing he would never be able to ignore, was the pain that came with it. Most of the time it was no more than a subtle ache in the center of his chest that pulsed outward from his withering soul. Something that left him feeling heavy and stiff, sore down to the very marrow of his bones. But every now and then it would spike and he would be made horribly aware of it as more and more of his magic was siphoned back into his soul and away from the rest of him, if only to stave off the end for just a little while longer. His smaller thinner bones already felt as fragile as eggshells, he wasn't certain how long he had left until parts of him simply started crumbling away into dust.</p>
<p>Something painful and bitter pulsed in his dimming soul and gave birth to a new sting in the corners of his eye sockets. Was this his fate? To die alone without ever seeing his sons again? Without ever being able to show Sans the stars or bask in the sunlight with those closest to his soul? At first Gaster didn't even realize he'd started crying, it wasn't as if he had much energy to waste on tears in the first place. And in the end that was the only thing that stopped him. A sudden surge of pain roared to life throughout his entire being and forced him to curl in on himself, clutching at his ribs and forcing trembling breaths past the tightness in his chest. For the longest time, the only sounds inside of his desolate cell were caused by the unsteady rattling of his bones and the shallow crackling wheeze of his every breath. When he noticed the faint blue glow of his tears in the darkness around him, he couldn't help but groan weakly in defeat.</p>
<p>Crying was a waste of magic and he didn't know for certain how much he had left besides not enough. After wasting energy on tears, the effort of moving and the struggle of staying awake through something that most monsters would have fainted from... Well, he hadn't had much time left to begin with he supposed. At this point it didn't really matter much anymore. If he stayed awake and kept hoping for some sort of intervention, he could last another few days before his soul gave out. If he placed himself in magical stasis, maybe another week or two. There... wasn't much room for choice anymore... was there? He could either stay awake and endure the pain that came with his soul's ever more frantic attempts to find the magic it needed to keep him alive. Or he could... He could what? Sleep through the end? Pretend it wasn't happening? Give up and just... just...</p>
<p>His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sounds of movement beyond the door to his cell. Soft, padded footsteps and the rasp of something hard against heavy metal. Nails? Claws? Plastic? He didn't care. Someone was outside of his door! The heavy groan of metal moving against metal echoed all around him and he weakly propped himself upright, hope causing his wisps to flare just the slightest bit brighter. The door opened and light streamed into his prison for the first time in what felt like centuries. It was weak, flickering and faint, fainter than candle light. But even that much caused him to cringe away in discomfort after being left in the darkness for so long.</p>
<p>When he could finally bear to look at his savior directly, he realized that his vision was faded around the edges and blurred. He could barely make out their silhouette, he couldn't even tell if they were human or monster and he certainly couldn't focus well enough to see their face. But one thing stood out to him even in his dazed state of mind. Their posture, they held themselves in a way that suggested they hadn't expected to see him when they opened the door. There was a tenseness to the indistinct shape in front of him, something that was less aggressive and more cautious. He didn't realize just how skittish they looked until after they started to back away, the door inching back into place behind them.</p>
<p>No... NO! They were going to leave him there to dust! Please, no! They couldn't bring light back into his world! Not just so they could banish him back to the darkness again! Not after so long! Gods, no! Please no! He couldn't take it any longer! He couldn't return to the silence! Anything but the darkness! Anything but the solitary confinement he had been subjected to until now! Gaster managed to force himself upright and lurched towards the door in a moment of blind panic. He tried to speak, to plead with them, to beg them to see reason, to show mercy. But the only thing that left him was a warbling mess of garbled sound that was more static than sentient speech. His legs gave out underneath him seconds later and he stumbled into the door just as it closed. A wretched sob of defeat tore itself free of him as he slid back down to the floor. No.... No.... Why? Why! Why did they leave him behind!!! Was this some sort of punishment? A new method of torture? How could they?!?!? How could they do this to him! How could they offer him hope and just as easily snatch it away again!!! A heavy shudder rocked through his thin frame and he slowly propped himself up against the door, fighting the urge to scream.</p>
<p>A delirious part of him wanted to hate the human? Monster? Person? Who ever it was that left him behind. But after a short while, after the panic and bitter feeling of anger began to fade, he realized that it wasn't their fault... not really. At first when they appeared, they seemed surprised to see him. If anything, the way they were closing the door made them seem more cautious and confused than anything else. But the moment he moved towards them, that caution seemed to change into something else and what ever light was left in his dim grey world had vanished with a resounding crash. It wasn't their fault, he'd frightened them, startled them if nothing else. And they... they had no way of knowing just how far gone he really was... Did they?</p>
<p>It was.... getting hard to breathe... Gaster wasn't entirely certain when he ended up tipping over onto the floor again. All he could think of was how difficult it was to focus on the slow expanding and contracting of his ribcage as he curled in on himself. It wasn't working right anymore. The motion was... wrong... His joints were all stiff, uncooperative, unyielding... Like a machine that had gone far too long without proper care. Where... where was the pain...? It was... gone? Some distant part of him recalled that the pain being gone was supposed to be a bad thing, but the concept seemed distant and abstract.</p>
<p>Why was it a bad thing that the pain was gone? His mind ticked sluggishly through half thoughts and distant feelings that he couldn't quite make sense of anymore. All he knew for certain was that he was tired... His wisps flickered one last time and finally died away, everything faded from his sight. So... very.... T....<br/>                                      I....<br/>                                  R....<br/>                                          E...<br/>                                                D.......</p>
<p><strong>Warmth. </strong>It crawled slowly and lazily through his bones, trickling into parts of him that had gone numb, chasing away the cold and easing his discomfort. He couldn't remember the last time he felt warm. It was a soft sensation, a gradual shift that he barely even felt at first. Something that slowly curled around his fading soul and gently cradled it in a manner that made him feel safe, protected, cared for.</p>
<p>Only to leave shortly after it appeared. Whoever or whatever it was, the warmth that teased life back into his failing soul and the comfort it offered him... simply went away. Gaster wanted to follow it, to seek out the source of warmth and comfort that for so long evaded him. But he couldn't move and with a growing sense of horror, he realized that he couldn't see either. And that wasn't all. It was as if his senses had been stripped away from him, leaving only the sensation of cold that surrounded him. His soul trembled in his chest and cried out in desperation for something, anything to return, silently begging for an end to the dark emptiness that surrounded him. And in time, that soft feeling came back.</p>
<p>The sensation of warmth swept over him again and stilled the frantic shivering of his soul, radiating care, concern, protectiveness. And this time, when the warmth faded, he didn't panic. There was still a frantic primal fear born in its absence. But after that first time, it was never gone long enough for the panic to truly set in. It always came back before... Before... something.... Something about the warm feeling being gone for too long filled him with dread. But he couldn't quite remember why. It didn't really matter so long as it came back again.... did it?</p>
<p>For the longest time, his world was nothing but the sensation of warmth and cold. He drifted in and out of awareness, too delirious from lack of magic to make sense of when he was awake and when he wasn't. The lingering sense of cold and the soothing touch of warmth were all he knew. But in time, that gentle sensation brought something else with it. A voice, soft and gentle and kind. It filtered hazily through his half conscious mind, seeming somehow real and dreamlike at once. The voice muttered quiet reassurances to him, compassionate phrases that bled into a mixture of comfort and praise that left him feeling less lost, less alone. "Everything is going to be alright. Just don't give up on me yet. I won't let you fall. Don't force yourself. You're doing just fine. I know you can do it, you wouldn't still be here otherwise. Just rest for now, rest and regain your strength. You'll be needing it. I'm going to get you out of here. You're going to see the sun again, I promise."</p>
<p>Everything they said ended up mixed and jumbled. He couldn't tell where one sentence ended and another began or which order they were even used in. But one thing in particular snapped at his attention. A promise, to see the sun again. Whoever they were, they weren't going to leave him behind. They were going to take him with them, he was going to be free of the darkness after so long. He clung to that promise like it was the only thing that still mattered in the world. When ever their voice came, he found himself hanging on their every word. He would have wept if he had the strength to, he would have laughed if he could have. Instead, all he could do was listen... Listen and try to remember.</p>
<p>The next thing that came back was his sense of touch. There was something hard underneath him, hard but not rough. It almost felt like something soft draped thinly over a very hard surface. Of course, it didn't really matter to him. Soft was better than coarse... He'd been sleeping on something hard and rough before... hadn't he? This was much better. The warm feeling wasn't back yet. Should he be worried? No. There was the sound of footsteps again, soft padded footsteps. They were coming, he just had to be patient. The sound drew nearer and then, a soft touch, something gentle and almost hesitant that settled against his sternum. This time the warmth that flooded through his bones felt more substantial, more real. It was familiar, it reminded him of strength, of life, of safety. Magic? Is that what it was? How could magic be down here of all places? Where was down here again? How did he get here? Why was he surprised to feel magic? Everything was still.... hazy...</p>
<p>The next time he drifted back into awareness, the hard surface was gone. Instead something soft and warm cradled him, something sturdy that made him feel distantly nostalgic. But what ever sense of peace he found in it was swiftly wrenched away from him once he was awake enough to hear what was happening around him. A primal scream shook him to the very marrow of his bones, a sound echoed by countless others. It didn't sound human, it didn't sound monster, it didn't sound right. A cacophony of gargling moans and shrieking yowls echoed from all around him.<br/>It was only then that he noticed the steady rocking motions of who ever was carrying him. They. Were. Running.<br/>And for the first time in what felt like centuries, he forced his wisps to reignite. This, had to be a nightmare.</p>
<p>The sight of yellowed and blackened flesh greeted him. A writhing mass of twisted limbs and clawing fingers reached for him. Dead eyes or eyes filled with hunger and greed focused on him and whoever held him. The scent of rancid meat crashed over Gaster and he buried his face in his savior's shirt, desperate to block it out. Some of those.... things... were slow and shambling. Mindless drones like the ones he'd seen in human horror movies that fell down into the mountain with the rest of the refuse. But some of them were different, more distorted and warped. Those ones weren't rotted, weren't completely mindless. They were faster, stronger, they were trampling the slower stupider creatures in their wake.</p>
<p>He then became painfully aware of how small the arms around him were, how thin and frail who ever was carrying him truly seemed to be. And then, weightlessness, yet he hadn't been dropped. Suddenly they were falling and just as quickly as it began, they wrenched to a sudden stop. Gaster reflexively wrapped his arms around them, feeling dizzy and exposed, vulnerable. He was still too weak to stand on his own, he wouldn't be able to run, he wouldn't be able to defend himself. Then, a shuddering lurch and another sudden stop. It took everything he had not to scream, holding onto who ever was with him as tightly as he could. After the third sudden drop, he finally forced himself to take in his surroundings again. There was no ground underneath them.... No... it was there... just... several hundred feet below them... Along with the screaming hoard of... was it alright to call them zombies? That was the only thing he could think to call them... There was another lurch and they shot up another twenty feet or so before coming to a sudden stop and he finally turned his attention to what ever was keeping them from falling into the waiting mouths of countless hungry abominations.</p>
<p>There was no platform, no rope, no pulley. Instead, for the first time, he noticed the warped talon like claws of the person holding him. Never once had they hurt him, never once had they nicked or scratched his bones by accident. But those claws bore into the cement wall in front of them, creating deep groves where there hadn't been before... Providing them with something to latch onto, something to climb with. They dug their claws further into the wall and then suddenly let go, flinging the two of them upwards and over a ledge he hadn't realized was there.</p>
<p>Fresh air greeted them, something that swept away the scent of rotting flesh, even if the stale odor of ash and rust was what greeted them. They were out? Something in him relaxed slightly and his hold on them loosened. As if taking this as some sort of signal to set him down, the person holding him quickly jogged another few paces away from the edge and gently shifted him to one arm. The next thing he knew, he was leaning against something hard, staring up into a half covered, almost human face.</p>
<p>Their eyes were different, an almost too bright yellow with slitted pupils that resembled something a feline or a reptile would have. He almost wished he could see the rest of their face, but it was wrapped firmly with a dark black cloth, concealing their mouth, nose, ears and hair from view. Something in the way they looked at him seemed worried, compassionate, concerned. Even if they looked almost human, he could trust them, he was safe. That realization eased the last of the tension out of his thin frame and he turned his gaze upward, basking in the sight of the dark sky far above them.</p>
<p>It was night time, there were no stars, the sky was black and filled with billowing clouds. Anyone else would have found the sight foreboding or disheartening. But all he could do was smile, weakly and tiredly. When was the last time he'd seen the sky? A small whisper escaped him, distorted and weak. But somehow, he felt as if they would still be able to see the meaning behind the harsh sounds of his voice falling short of the elusive flow of human speech. <em>'Thank you...'</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, just a quick note here.<br/>I've already said that this is the equivalent of just verbal doodling.<br/>So, yeah, it might end up edited a few times to fix annoying grammar or spelling issues.<br/>But I'm not really going to put a whole lot of effort into it.<br/>Attaching too much meaning to it will probably end up leaving me feeling frustrated and angry at some point and I just can't deal with the added stress....<br/>Or the annoyance....<br/>The appearance of this side project in no way means that I've given up on Shadow's Wake, I'm even still making piecemeal bits of progress here and there.<br/>But there's nothing worth mentioning at this point in time and I wouldn't get your hopes up for an update any time soon either.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's time to see things from a different perspective, someone who didn't know Gaster was there in the first place.<br/>One thing leads to another and the worst of circumstances lead to the most unlikely of allies.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing! They'd searched the entire prison and there was just nothing left! No food! No ammunition! No supplies.... well... to be fair... They did manage to find a few cans of beets and some other throw away rations that they could force down if it came between a choice of starving to death or simply being useless for half the day. And they did manage to salvage a few of the cooking implements in the kitchen. But most of the weapons they found were broken beyond repair, jammed or out of ammo.</p>
<p>It seemed as though the guards were more focused on keeping the prison from being overwhelmed and using it as some sort of base of operations than getting out and finding someplace remote to rebuild. There were enough half decomposed corpses lying around to tell 'that' story well enough. If they wanted to make this place a base of operations, they should have avoided using guns and kept the gates closed for the first month or so. They should have just waited for the hordes to disperse, to chase after the fleeing survivors and leave the city as less of a danger zone. But of course, they had to play the whole 'if they're all dead, they can't kill us' game.</p>
<p>End result, the gates fell several weeks into the outbreak and everyone on the inside died either in their cells, were executed for outstanding crimes against humanity that barely even mattered anymore so the guards could save on rations... Or, they ended up getting ripped apart by the horde attracted by idiots firing off guns. Some even lived long enough to turn and kill their friends in a mindless feeding frenzy. Fun times. If the world was any different, they would have pitied the fools. Of course, these days, fools and cowards were just as likely to get others killed as they were to kill themselves doing something dumb.</p>
<p>In a way Darwinism had become a thing again and successfully weeded out the slower, weaker and stupider people who were out there. Of course there were always exceptions to the rule, but they were few and far between. So long as one was careful of who they trusted and with what, it was easy enough to either avoid those few or trick them into leaving them alone. Zombies were the more immediate threat to everyone and anyone's survival, but other people were an even greater risk. At least a rotting corpse or a mutated savage was honest about what they wanted. Humans lied, humans cheated, stole and betrayed.</p>
<p>It was safer to either go it alone or be one of the few that managed to prove themselves trustworthy enough to join a group of wandering monsters. Monsters... Referring to them in that way was always something that left a bad taste in their mouth. They weren't monsters. Granted their physical appearances were often exotic and frightening, but the way they acted couldn't be farther from monstrous. These days, humans were the monsters, both inside and out. There were still good people out there, but good humans were difficult to find with the amount of fighting and killing that surviving demanded.</p>
<p>They liked to think of themself as a good person, but one look at their long talon like claws was more than enough to banish that thought from their mind. How could they call themself a person anymore? They weren't human, they weren't monster, they weren't even something in between. If... no, when. They had to keep a positive outlook here, for the sake of the others if not for themself. When then. When this was finally over, they would likely either end up living alone in the wild as some sort of outcast hermit or dead with the rest of the mutated abominations in the world. It wasn't exactly much of a future to look forward to, especially considering the fact that they had no way of knowing if their family was even still alive.</p>
<p>A sudden skittering noise had them ducking into a nearby doorway, nearly tripping on the first three steps on a staircase they hadn't noticed before. Another sub level? It was risky to go down there without first scouting the surrounding area and finding out what made that sound... but... If there was any ammo or food left, it only made sense that it would be at the lowest level. What ever guards lasted through the first few waves of infected probably would have gathered everything they could to make a last stand in the most fortified location they could find. It was worth a try and if they ended up walking around a corner and startling a horde, it wasn't like they were going to get a chance to come back and scout the area again for quite some time. They would just have to take the risk and hope that no one back home found out about it.</p>
<p>The lights in the prison didn't work anymore, but it wasn't like they needed them to. The dim light of the stars that trickled weakly into the prison was more than enough for them to navigate the dark passage. Their pupils simply expanded and grew to make up for the lack of light. And when they reached the end of the staircase, they found themselves puzzled by what they found. They walked into a room that was completely bare save for a simple desk and a chair that sat against one wall opposite a heavy steel door. A set of keys rested silently on the surface of the desk, right in the center of a worrying blood splatter that looked more than just slightly disturbed.</p>
<p>Whoever or what ever was bleeding didn't stick around for long, there was evidence of a struggle and there were drag marks on the floor. What ever was behind that door had better be worth it. While they were fetching the keys, they found an abandoned flashlight and smacked it a couple times, managing to force it to turn on. The light it provided was minimal, a clear sign that it was either damaged or nearly out of power. But it was still a marked improvement, a little light to other people was a lot of light to them. Feeling confident for the first time in months, they hurried to the steel door and turned the key in the lock, pleased when the handle rotated in their grasp.</p>
<p>Time to see what these fools were keeping stashed down here. What awaited them on the other side, froze them in their tracks. It wasn't a stash of armor or weapons, it wasn't ammunition or food. Instead, a single skeleton lie in the middle of the floor. At first, they thought it was just a regular every day skeleton. Out of place, yes, considering the fact that it had only been a few months since the world ended. But they had seen far stranger things. Of course, once it moved, they knew something was wrong. Was it a new type of infected? Was it patient zero? Was this what started the outbreak? No, the prison would have fallen first if that was the case. So... what was going on?</p>
<p>At first they didn't even realize they were backing away and slowly closing the door behind them. But once the skeleton let out a shrill grating noise and lurched towards them, they didn't hesitate to slam the door in its face. For several seconds, all they could do was stand there with their hand still closed around the door handle and their blood roaring in their ears. But after a short while, they realized that something was wrong. Normally one of the infected wouldn't stop just because a door was flung in front of them. They could sense the living and uninfected, it should have been ready to attack them before they even opened the door. It should have still been beating at the steel trying to get at them. But... it wasn't...</p>
<p>With a growing sense of dread, they cautiously eased the door open again, feeling ill at the sound of something light dragging across the cement floor. It was only then that they noticed how faint the soul of the creature inside had become. It wasn't moving, it wasn't breathing. Did it even need to? They cautiously turned it over and settled the creature down as gently as they could, horrified by the sight of it when a fine white powder rubbed off onto their clothes. This wasn't an infected human, this wasn't a human at all. This person was magic-kin. They were a monster. They were dusting, dying. This poor skeleton had wasted the last of his or her strength crying out for help... and they had... they had slammed the door in their face.</p>
<p>It couldn't be too late, it couldn't be too late. They would never forgive themself if they'd sentenced this poor creature to death by their own cowardice. No, now wasn't the time for fears or regrets. They could live their entire life blaming themself if the skeleton died. But right now, they had to try if nothing else. Absentmindedly, they noticed how badly they were shaking as they settled their hands over the creature's chest, all too aware of their misshapen claws. It wouldn't do if they hurt the poor thing on accident. And soon, they were funneling as much magic and soul energy into them as possible, cursing their own inexperience.</p>
<p>Magic was never a new concept to them, they had been studying it in secret well before the fall of the barrier. But their magic had always been weak and unyielding when ever they tried to manifest it outwardly. True, they could donate magic and soul energy through physical contact, but actually doing something with it was tricky. Add the fact that they hadn't practiced even something as simple as that for years due to a solid lack of people they could trust... and they had no way of knowing if what they were doing was going to help at all. But what ever doubts they had quickly started dying off once the skeleton's soul stopped fading, once they sensed it stirring weakly and drawing in the energy they were offering it. It was working, the creature's soul was accepting their magic and after a quick glance back down at the dark clothes that covered them... they were relieved to see that there wasn't any more dust than there already had been.</p>
<p>It felt like they were there for hours, kneeling beside the dying monster, pouring their strength into them, praying that the weak and wavering soul in the grasp of their magic would finally be strong enough to survive on its own. And when the skeleton's soul finally stopped shivering, when it finally started showing signs of solid improvement, they found that they didn't have time to feel happy about it. Something was dragging across the floor near the top of the stairs. If one of the infected was nearby, they had to draw it away. They couldn't risk the creature leading more of those raging beasts towards them, not with as weak as the skeleton was just now.</p>
<p>It would be dangerous to move them, it wasn't like they had any muscles or tendons or cartilage holding them together. It was all magic and soul energy. The chances of something falling off and getting left behind were too great. And if they were in such a bad state without even being physically hurt? There was no telling if the poor thing could survive even a few scratches or shallow cracks. But... how long could they last on their own? If they were gone too long... would they come back to a pile of dust? How long was too long? The rasping scrape of something dragging across cement forced them to their feet and out the door before they could answer that thought. It almost hurt to close the door after that, but they couldn't have one of the infected discovering the skeleton while they were gone. If a rotted corpse or a mutated savage found them while they were out distracting something else, they really would come back to a pile of dust.</p>
<p>The following hours all blurred together in their memory, a mix of tense silence and careful redirection. Stealth was something they'd learned to hone, herding infected without getting close enough to draw their attention was something they'd had to be good at. It was fortunate they didn't run into any mutated savages while they were about, just mindless drones. But the physical and magical exertion of the last several hours... or was it already daylight...? Didn't matter, they were still tired. All of that moving around and giving away really took it out of them. They would have to rest before they could go back to helping the monster they found in the basement.</p>
<p>As much as they hated the thought of the nausea that was to come, the beets were gone by the time they made their way back down to the lowest sub level. What they found when they returned to the solitary confinement cell both shocked and horrified them. A sudden wave of fear washed over them the moment they opened the door, something that would have been muted and faint to any normal human being. But to them, to them it was suffocating. Even without touching the creature, they could feel how the skeleton's soul was crying out for them. And the moment they touched them, they were instantly aware of how violently the fading soul was shivering and shaking.</p>
<p>Damn it, how could they have been so stupid! Of course the poor thing would be aware of what was happening, they'd heard that some monsters could hear and feel what was going on around them after they fell down. And they'd interfered just as the skeleton was dusting, of course they would be aware of the flow of life energy suddenly being cut off. It would only make sense that they would feel as if they'd been abandoned, left to die. This amount of stress couldn't be good for a soul teetering on the edge of life and death. Forget resting, they needed to calm the skeleton down before its soul gave out.</p>
<p>There wasn't much they could offer at the moment, but just the initial touch of their magic seemed enough to help still the frantic shivering of the creature's soul. And when they started projecting feelings of warmth and calm? Of safety and support? It almost felt as though the creature's soul melted into the sensations of wellness they were offering. The fear quickly died and the tension bled out of them, leaving a general air of tiredness pulsing outward from the weakened soul. There was something similar to awareness shifting through the magic that flickered dimly inside of the skeleton, something faint and muted that pressed against them in a way that felt much like a stray cat seeking affection. But it didn't last for very long, their patient was too weak to stay aware for more than a short while. That feeling of awareness retreated and vanished, suggesting that the creature had slipped into a deeper state of rest. That.... that was fine. They couldn't keep this up all day, they needed sleep themself and after continuing to funnel energy into the skeleton for a little while longer, they broke away.</p>
<p>The first thing they needed to do was create some sort of barricade for their little shelter or some sort of warning system. Broken glass made for a good pick, it would always crunch under foot no matter who was walking on it. But they didn't have any and making some was a very very bad idea. So, inevitably they turned to the desk. It was a poor choice, but honestly, what else could they do? It took them what felt like hours to wedge the stupid thing into the doorway at the top of the stairs, slowed as their efforts were by the need to remain silent. Making noise would only draw in trouble. Running silent was the only way to survive, drawing attention to one's self would inevitably lead to a painful death. And so it was with some reluctance that they left their makeshift barricade/alarm system at the top of the stairs and quietly slunk back to the cell. After one last glance back the way they came, they quietly slipped inside and revisited the skeleton.</p>
<p>They looked... pitiful and small despite the fact that they had a feeling the creature was their own height if not taller. It was... probably the lack of muscles and skin. After a few seconds of hesitation, they dropped down into a crouch and started shuffling around in their backpack, searching for something that might provide some measure of comfort. This skeleton had been sleeping on a bare cement floor for who knew how long, they deserved what ever relief their meager supplies could offer. Unfortunately however, the only thing they could find was a nearly threadbare blanket from before the world ended. It was soft yes, but it wouldn't provide much in the way of cushioning...</p>
<p>Oh well, comfort was a luxury in the world these days. After a bit of folding and measuring and refolding, they finally managed to spread it out against the ground and gently move their patient onto the makeshift cot. If nothing else, it would prevent them from collecting any extra chips or scrapes in their bones in the event that they woke up in a panic once they finally recovered enough to regain consciousness. With that confidence, they quietly eased the door open the rest of the way and settled against it, watching the skeleton curiously. They'd never met a skeleton in person before, though they'd heard a little bit about them. Supposedly, they were an endangered species even before the plague, though how many were left exactly was something they didn't know. Not then and certainly not now either. Some part of them was grateful that they'd found this one, bleeding heart that they were.</p>
<p>But getting the poor creature out of the prison was going to be harder than they'd like. It always seemed as though they took on the hopeless cases, the worst off. Their current companions of the past few weeks were no exception either. But, something about the unfortunate and the abandoned left them feeling a little less alienated. There was something comforting to knowing that there were people out there who suffered more than they did, even if it was cruel of them to think so.</p>
<p>Finding common ground with others became a little more difficult when time and circumstance led to the hardening of hearts. The feeling of wholeness they got back home and even in the cell where they were now was better than the bitter emptiness they experienced when they were alone. Familiarity, sympathy, camaraderie, it was like a drug to someone who for so long had known only isolation. They sank into that feeling and let it carry them into an uneasy sleep, too cautious of their surroundings to fully relax.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Still there?<br/>Good, you're paying more attention than Gaster is at least. XD<br/>Another chapter from the perspective of our spooky little friend as they nurse the good doctor back to health.<br/>If you thought the escape was stressful for him, imagine being the one carrying him out of that place. ^^'</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following days were much the same. They woke, donated magic to the skeleton in their care, slipped back into the upper levels of the prison to distract the infected and then returned to aid the creature again. There were steady improvements, signs of the soul gaining strength. But their patient didn't stir, not really. That was... fine. They chased away the unsettling quiet with their own silent way of speaking. Flashes of emotion and intent passed through their magic, incomplete thoughts that they knew for certain weren't going to reach the other creature with any real clarity. Their quiet encouragements and gentle reassurances were something no one else could hear, wishful thinking and nothing more.</p>
<p>The virus had taken their voice from them, mangled their vocal cords to the point where they could only make meaningless animal noises. A hiss here, a growl there, maybe a trill if they were only mildly annoyed instead of angry or feeling threatened. It was true that their range of vocalization had grown significantly since they lost their ability to communicate. But mimicking wild animals or chuffing at random strangers didn't tend to produce favorable results. It was easier to just stay quiet, it was bad enough that they didn't look human anymore. They didn't need to remind anyone that they couldn't talk and didn't even sound human anymore when ever they tried. Besides, the others didn't seem to mind how quiet they were. They might not have been able to interpret exactly what they wanted to say when ever communication was necessary, but that didn't matter.</p>
<p>The others were patient, the others were kind. The others could still sense their intent and emotions, they could still use that much to understand them. Which was more than they had expected when they first stumbled upon the two elementals, one half extinguished and the other terrified for both of their lives. The way the first had bristled when they entered, so weak he couldn't even stand, could barely move. And yet he'd still tried, sparking painfully when what was left of his magic flared in his attempts to protect the younger, smaller elemental with him. The way he'd curled in on himself with a ragged gasp, suddenly struggling to breathe, smothering and choking on the moisture in the air alone.... The look of horror in that young elemental girl's eyes as she tried to stoke his flames, her own magic threadbare from gods only knew how long where she'd been trying to keep him from falling down.</p>
<p>It wasn't safe, they were walking beacons to any infected nearby, which explained the heavy activity in the area. But, if they'd left those two alone, they would have been dust before morning. If the zombies didn't see to it, the rain outside certainly would. So, the bleeding heart that they were, they emptied their pack and said goodbye to the one bottle of liquor they'd found in ages, rolling it softly across the floor rather than approaching. The look of surprise in that girl's eyes when she realized what it was, it still made them smile when they thought of it. Of course, they hadn't been able to stick around and learn how to treat a fire elemental that was sputtering out. The infected were too close, most of them just drones, but even those would have been too much for the two survivors to handle on their own. It was a long night, but they didn't regret helping them.</p>
<p>No, they'd never regret helping them, especially not now. One small act of kindness, twice a dozen dead infected and twice a dozen more before dawn. The storm broke just as the horizon began to change from black to dark blue. And the next thing they knew, they were dragging a half dead elemental with the temperament of an angry feral cat back to their camp, helping his young companion support his weight seeing as he couldn't manage on his own. He'd still been bristly and distrustful for the longest time. But once he'd started regaining his strength, the older elemental seemed more willing to give them a chance. If by give them a chance they meant not hissing at them every time they showed up back at camp to drop off supplies. Those first few weeks had been... interesting...</p>
<p>The sounds of something heavy tumbling down the stairs and a deafening crash pulled them out of their thoughts. The desk! It only took them a few seconds to fling their pack into place over their shoulders and the skeleton was in their arms before they had any time to think. It didn't matter if it was only one drone, that noise would attract any infected that were still in the prison. They had to move and move quickly. The rotting corpse they saw at the bottom of the stairs when they darted out of the cell was something they hardly paid any attention to. It was just a drone, slow, stupid, relatively harmless on its own and they didn't have the time to waste on it. By the time the creature could wail and stumble back to it's feet, lurching towards them grotesquely... They'd already lunged from the ground and sunk their claws into the wall, propelling themself over its head and towards the open doorway.</p>
<p>Three steps out the door, they found themself nearly face to face with a solid wall of muscle. Crap.... it was an alpha... it was a tank... It shouldn't have taken so much effort to dodge when the hulking beast reared back and swung at them with a thundering roar. Their magic use over the past few days must have drained them more than they thought. As it was, they barely managed to twist out of the way, stumbling over an abandoned rifle. The sounds of running footsteps echoed all around them while they were struggling to find their feet again. There were more infected coming, sprinters, chargers from the sounds of how fast they were moving.</p>
<p>For one panicked instant, survival instinct almost took over. They almost dropped the skeleton in their arms for the sake of mobility and speed. But just as quickly as instinct threatened to take over, reason and compassion snapped back into place. They clung to those two things with a snarl and a sudden swell of bitterness. They weren't a coward, if they'd saved those two elementals, they could save this one lost soul as well. They chased away the panic with their mind's voice, a sudden rush of gentle reminders and encouragement, ignoring the trembling in their limbs.</p>
<p>It isn't that hard, just different. Find your feet, they aren't shaped like they used to be, not anymore. Toes first, then spring. And with that, they were up and moving, sinking into the steady jolting feeling of the run. This was something they were used to, every swift lunge and powerful leap. Yes, this was what they were made for. Their sharp eyes that could see into the deepest shadows, their curved claws that could sink into almost any surface, their lean build and misshapen legs. They were built for running and climbing, for navigating almost any environment with ease. They were the shadow in the night, the thing that no survivor ever wanted to see stalking them through the desolate streets of the apocalypse. They were a reaper, a hunter and few things could hope to keep up with them.</p>
<p>The prison was coming alive with infected activity, stirred into wakefulness by the screams and wails of the first few to notice them. Half rotted corpses stumbled out of doorways and limped free of open cells, twitching, gurgling and screaming, adding to the unbearable din that was rousing more and more of them from their deathless stupor. Every corner they rounded led to more clawing fingers and gnashing teeth, more howling and shrieking abominations that added to the writhing mass of bodies chasing them. The thin figure in their arms twitched and tensed the moment they made it to one of the larger cell blocks, suddenly shuddering, shaking and burying its face in their shirt. The skeleton had chosen the worst possible time to finally wake up, they'd hoped their patient would sleep through this part. It was just their luck that they hadn't.</p>
<p>It didn't take them long to find a good open stretch of wall leading up to a skylight and they launched themself towards it without a second thought, feeling guilty when the skeleton flung its arms around them. They'd known the monster would be weak, but even with as light as their thin frame was, there was no way the frail grip around their torso would have been enough to keep them from falling, not without help. That realization made it harder to focus on what they were doing than they would have liked.</p>
<p>The next spring took them only half as far as they'd meant it to and their claws almost didn't catch on the concrete in front of them like they were supposed to. Now wasn't the time to feel bad for the skeleton. If they didn't focus, they were going to fall and while the drop wouldn't kill them, a bear hug from an alpha most certainly would. Every lunge towards the skylight only seemed to leave their patient even more frightened, the thin scrape of bone against bone just barely registering at the edge of their hearing. The skeleton moved again, glancing down towards the screeching mob beneath them and seeming twice as horrified as before. Then it was glancing all over the place, a thin motion like a gasp rocking through it the moment its gaze landed on their claws. Yeah, they figured that wouldn't go over too well.</p>
<p>One last spring and they were greeted by what was considered fresh air these days, grateful for the scents of rust and ash that replaced the vile odor of rotting meat. Up and out, it was easier to climb through windows and out of holes in ceilings than walk out of doorways. At least tanks couldn't climb, those things were very strictly limited to the ground. There were even some buildings they couldn't walk into because they were just too heavy.</p>
<p>The thin arms around them slowly relaxed and the tension bled out of their new companion, something akin to exhausted relief leaving the figure in their grasp almost entirely limp. A few more strides away from the broken skylight and they were leaning their patient up against some part of the roof or another. They didn't care what exactly it was, a service hatch or part of an entry way, it didn't matter, they figured if the other person was going to trust them, they had to be as transparent as possible.</p>
<p>It was, hard to read the skeleton's expression, mostly because there wasn't much of a face to read in the first place, but they didn't see any of the fear or disgust they'd been expecting. There was something akin to surprise, perhaps even curiosity mixed in with the exhausted relief and gratitude that was there. Then the other creature was leaning against the cement ledge behind them, staring up at the sky with a world weary tiredness smoothing the edges of their eye sockets. And for the first time since they'd found the skeleton, worn thin and slowly dying in the bare cement room at the bottom of the prison complex, they heard its voice. A thin, frail sound that wasn't like any human voice they'd ever heard, chased with echoes of magic that they recognized.</p>
<p>The sounds didn't make any sense, but the emotions and intent did, scraping at the edges of their mind in a way that made them feel more connected to him... him? Yes, somehow, they could feel it, this skeleton was a he. And he needed someplace safe to rest, someplace where he could recover his strength. Then, the skeleton was asleep, as if that brief moment of communication had used what ever energy or strength he'd had left to spare. And still, as they lifted him gently into their arms again, those two words stuck with them, spoken frail and yet clear as day, whispered weakly through his magic.</p>
<p><em>'Thank you...'</em> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Back to Gaster's point of view again.<br/>Huh... that was probably a very unpleasant way to wake up.<br/>Oh well, can't possibly get much worse than.... never mind.<br/>He was just starting to get better too...  : /</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gaster woke to the sounds of gunfire and screaming, suddenly jolting awake in a space that was entirely too small. It was dark and claustrophobic, twice as wide as he was tall and just as long, but the ceiling was too low for him to sit up or even rise to a crouch. He didn't know where he was, only that it seemed like some sort of closed box and with a sudden spark of alarm, he realized that he wasn't alone. A figure to his right shifted quietly and stared at him, bright, glowing yellow eyes peering out of the darkness at him. It was unsettling, only made even worse by the sounds of chaos raging outside. As if sensing his unease, they pulled away, tugging a tattered bag out into the open and rifling through its contents. Then, they were pressing a small device and a set of headphones into his hands and he had to fumble to keep the small metal rectangle from slipping through the empty space between his phalanges and the bones in his wrist.</p>
<p>When he didn't immediately show any signs of knowing what the objects were, they took them back and pointedly shoved the headphones over his skull, fiddling with the device until music crackled to life. A little more fiddling and suddenly it was loud enough to drown out what ever was going on outside. Then, they shifted about a bit and turned their back to him, as if bringing a close to a wordless conversation. As strange as the entire exchange was, he couldn't help but be grateful for the electronic beats and tones that played back to him through the speakers on either side of his skull, especially when he felt a shock wave pass through their small shelter. He did not want to know what that was, nope, not one bit. Wasn't going to think about it, didn't care.</p>
<p>Instead he focused on the music reverberating inside of his skull, using it to steady his breathing as he forced himself to relax. He was safe, if the other person wanted to hurt him, they already would have. Besides, it was safer where ever they were than it was outside. Working himself into a state wouldn't help, he didn't have enough magic to do anything with anyway and honestly? He still had no idea what was going on, it wasn't like he had a chance to ask the other person anything just yet. At some point he must have genuinely lost himself in the music that was playing off of the small device. Because the next thing Gaster knew, who ever it was that saved him from that horrible place was tugging at him softly as if to get his attention. And when he took off the headphones, it was deathly quiet outside.</p>
<p>No gunfire, no screaming, no more harsh vibrations passing through their little hiding place. All was still, as if nothing had happened in the first place. The stranger gently took their things back and tucked them away, toying with the small device while doing so, as if to make certain it was turned off. Probably for the best. He didn't know if they had the sort of equipment needed to keep it operational. That... actually made him feel sort of guilty. From the looks of them, they probably weren't welcome among humans which would make their life much harder than it should have been, especially now. It wasn't as if the world was very safe or welcoming to begin with if his hazy recollections of the night before were any indicator. He still couldn't believe it wasn't a dream, but the noise he'd woken to and the fact that his savior was still with him definitely made it hard to pretend that none of this was happening.</p>
<p>The next thing he knew, light was streaming into their little shelter and the stranger was offering their hand to him. It probably should have been harder for him to trust them, harder to accept their assistance without question or hesitance. But something about them almost seemed to draw him towards them. They weren't human... It was more a thought than a realization, a random, fanciful idea that couldn't possibly be true. But as he took their hand, feeling the familiar thrum of magic flowing through their entire being, he couldn't discount it... not entirely. Of course, such thoughts rapidly vanished when they suddenly yanked on his arm, swinging him out of their hiding place and in to the open... Where it suddenly became very very clear why they hadn't left him to climb out on his own.</p>
<p>There was no ground... no... it was still there... just a lot farther away than he'd bargained for. They were... he didn't know where exactly. Hanging from some sort of large structure, perhaps a building or some kind of monument. It didn't really matter, all that mattered was the fact that they were really really high up and out of the way. And as he let his gaze sweep over their surroundings, it became very clear why that was. The city was in a horrible state, some buildings damaged beyond recognition. Fire seemed a likely cause in most cases, but there was a lot that didn't make sense, unaided by the distant flow of dead bodies wandering the streets far below them.</p>
<p>Another yank on his arm and he was scrabbling to loop his arms around his savior's neck, considerably adverse to the thought of falling from such a great height. For several seconds, they remained entirely still, as if to make sure that he was situated properly. Then, they were scuttling up the side of the structure as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Gaster didn't have the presence of mind to question it, though he did take note of the way their claws tore into the surface in front of them. Such a thing shouldn't have been possible, the wall they were clinging to was a mixture of cement and steel. Their claws must have been made of something durable, something that he'd never seen or heard of before.</p>
<p>They stopped dead and he got the general sense that something was about to happen, if nothing else due to the way that they tensed. He heard something.... a hissing sound from somewhere above them. Then they were falling, or more accurately diving towards a building that felt much much too far away. But what ever their claws were made of didn't seem to care. They tore into the side of the building with the horrid sound of screeching metal, slowing their decent in the few seconds they held on before lurching towards the next nearest structure.</p>
<p>Something was following them, he managed to figure that out simply by how quickly his new ally was moving. Never mind the sounds that trailed behind them, tearing metal and a feral growl that sounded much too close for comfort. He didn't have enough magic to fight what ever was chasing them, but maybe... maybe he didn't have to. A quick glance down was more than enough to make up his mind for him and when they landed on the next building, Gaster twisted around to get a look at what ever was following them.</p>
<p>A figure in tattered clothing was lunging towards them, claws angled forward, madness in their gaze, determined to rend and tear. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have risked loosing his grip, even if he'd needed some way to direct his magic properly. But his first knee jerk reaction was to throw out a hand with blue magic following close behind it, forcing their attacker to a halt mid air before they could reach them. The person carrying him lurched sideways abruptly as they lunged for a building across the street. He felt the moment they slipped away from him, a harsh yank on the arm he still had around their shoulders.</p>
<p>Skeletons were light as a general rule, all told he probably didn't weigh more than forty pounds on his own. Certainly not enough to simply plummet to the ground from where they were when his new ally made the jump. Instead he was dragged part way across the gap by their momentum, his concentration on the magic keeping their attacker in place breaking nearly an instant after he'd caught them to begin with. The creature screeched and flailed as it fell, too far away from the building to catch itself, unable to angle closer without any forward momentum to carry it the rest of the way.</p>
<p>Gaster's own decent was slower, though not by very much. His clothes caught at the air and gave him some degree of wind resistance, some form of buffer. But it wouldn't be enough to survive the fall... no, certainly not. On the bright side, he didn't quite have the presence of mind to worry about that fact. He was too busy reeling from the sudden dizziness that overcame him with the use of his magic. There was no pain, no rush of coldness telling him that he was close to falling down. But his mind had grown sluggish, snagging on basic observations and half formed thoughts that barely made any sense.</p>
<p>Oh... the creature was falling. Of course they were, he'd let go, hadn't he? No, his concentration had broken, he hadn't meant to drop them. At least, not in the moment. He'd certainly meant to let them fall, just not right then. Huh... the pavement was getting awfully close... Such a mess.... apparently the creature hadn't been a monster after all.</p>
<p>A sudden weight slammed into him and painfully stuttered the movement of his ribs. Something screeched nearby, he felt himself hanging from something. His ribs hurt, his arm hurt, his skull was throbbing. There was a loud hissing noise and someone or something moved him, hanging him off of something that felt a little sturdier than what ever had caught him before. A pulse of magic, prodding, searching, irritated, angry, concerned. Then a nauseating movement that didn't stop, didn't lessen.</p>
<p>Gaster couldn't keep track of his surroundings anymore, they were moving past him too quickly for him to bear it. All he could do was close his orbits and try not to be sick. Not that he had enough magic left to expel any. Heh... why did he find that funny at the moment? Oh... right... he'd been falling to his death. The fact that he was still alive felt absolutely ridiculous. They could have been moving for hours or maybe it was only a few minutes, he wasn't exactly sure anymore. All he knew was that he was grateful when it finally stopped because it meant he didn't feel like emptying his soul's contents all over the ground anymore.</p>
<p>Some part of him wanted to take in his surroundings and make sense of where he was again. But the call of sleep was much stronger than any vague sense of self preservation he might have felt. It didn't take him very long to drift off once they'd stopped moving, though he was distantly aware of the soft scent of wood smoke somewhere nearby. Wood smoke and something else.... something.... familiar....?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Back to our spooky little friend's point of view....<br/>Seeing as Gaster passed out again...<br/>Turns out their pretty thoughtful, though not exactly in the best of ways.<br/>Just a recap on what happened in the last chapter, from the point of view of someone who knows what's going on.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It should have been simple, it should have been easy. They'd escaped the prison complex, avoided the infected on their way to one of their many hiding places along the outskirts of the city. They'd made certain to avoid leading anything dangerous back to their small sanctuary. They should have known they'd lingered too long, even without taking into account the sounds of gunfire and fighting that picked up somewhere near the early hours of morning... Staying in one place so long was a risk they never should have taken, especially so close to the wandering hordes.</p>
<p>Most infected tended to linger near towns and villages, larger cities, anywhere they might have come into contact with living and uninfected people really. They should have packed up and headed out while the fighting was still going on. The survivors relying on firearms would have drawn the infected away from them. Guns were like ringing a dinner bell, the infected had learned over time that while guns were painful, survivors didn't move very fast without land vehicles. Most survivors didn't have any idea how to use weapons effectively anyway and while taking a bullet to the shoulder was enough to stagger a mutated savage, it wasn't enough to stop them.</p>
<p>Even a reaper would have taken its chances with slow moving well armed survivors rather than waste the energy on chasing another reaper, even if said reaper wasn't infected anymore. But, they'd lingered. They'd stayed longer than they ever should have, resolving to let their new companion get as much rest as possible. Seeing a fight between a group of survivors and a horde probably wouldn't have done him any favors. And once he'd realized that they were just leaving them to their fate? Worse yet, that they were using them to draw attention away from the two of them? It wouldn't have surprised them if he'd insisted on going back and resented them for the rest of their lives when they refused.</p>
<p>Magic kin were just like that. They were far better people than most humans. Honor and compassion were common sense and second nature.... No, first nature to them. They weren't selfish or cruel, most of the time not even after being given more than enough reason to act that way. So, it was their fault really, that a reaper had found them. They should have expected it honestly. Still, the sudden swell of murderous intent and the territorial hiss that followed it had taken them off guard. They'd almost failed to dodge in time when the other reaper lunged towards the two of them from above.</p>
<p>No time to get their bearings, no time to think of a plan, just keep moving. Claws sinking into steel, glass shattering under their weight, ground into sand by the time they lunged for the next building. No good, the other reaper was still behind them. This one had grown used to stalking the streets, it understood how to lunge across large gaps properly. It knew which parts of buildings were the best for gripping, how to avoid the windows that would shatter and give way instead of working as handholds. It was fast, almost as fast as they were, working them into a frenzy of movement and desperate evasion. Had to get away, couldn't let the reaper near him. He was too weak, he wouldn't last. The weight left their back.</p>
<p>One moment they were landing and preparing for the next jump. And the next, he was just... gone... Had they misjudged how far away the other reaper was? They managed to catch themself on the next building and quickly turned around to look for him. No dust, there was no dust. But there <em>was</em> a thin figure falling limply towards the streets below them, dazed and helpless. There was no thought, no question as to whether or not they'd reach him in time. They jumped, barely registering the other reaper exploding into bloody confetti as it met the pavement. How had the damn thing fallen in the first place?</p>
<p>Then they were slamming into the skeleton monster, barely managing to catch hold of some fancy sign made of cheap metal and neon. It was a miracle they managed to keep hold of him, even if their grip had slipped to one of his arms, leaving him dangling just below them, no more than thirty feet from the sidewalk. They couldn't help but hiss loudly at him once they registered what had broken their fall. The sign shouldn't have held under their weight. It should have snapped. Their claws should have sheared through the wires and electronics.</p>
<p>No time to think of that. The smell of fresh blood was going to draw out more infected, likely reapers and the other more dangerous savages. They heaved him over their shoulder like a sack of old potatoes and righted themself, ignoring the hazy look in his eye... sockets. It took more effort to free their arm from the mangled remains of the sign than they would have liked. And they didn't like the look of the bleeding cuts that they'd earned for their trouble, but now wasn't the time to complain.</p>
<p>If they could be grateful for one thing about their mutated body, it was their increased pain tolerance and how quickly they healed. When they were human, the cuts on their arm would have been terrifying. They would have had to find something to stop the bleeding right away, probably been taken in to the emergency room for stitches and disinfectant. Now? Now it was just a minor inconvenience. The blood loss was unfortunate and likely to leave them moody, lethargic and weaker than they'd prefer for several days. But it would heal up well enough on its own, even if their arm was going to be covered in scars after this little mishap.</p>
<p>For a moment, they wondered if their companions would scold them for being careless, but the thought was quickly pushed aside as they hurried to scale the building again. Irritating but not dangerous, they could manage with one lame arm for a while. It wasn't until they started jumping from building to building that they realized how much trouble it really was. They had to rely on rooftops more often then they normally would, using their good arm to catch them where it was necessary and compensating by using their legs more than they typically did.</p>
<p>There was no salvaging the day. At the pace they were keeping, it would take them until well past nightfall to reach camp. They didn't have any solid food to show for their little excursion either, the others wouldn't like that. They wouldn't complain, but they wouldn't like it, even though they'd managed to find some new cookware. Well, maybe the older elemental would enjoy the cookware more than the smaller one... but they knew that he would be unhappy to learn that their supplies would be running thin for a while yet.</p>
<p>If only the hordes hadn't chased away all of the decent prey in the area. But even the bolder animals were scarce, they'd be better off ranging out farther, despite how uncomfortable the suggestion made the older elemental. He hadn't said anything about it, but they got the general feeling that he'd had friends in the area and was hoping that some of them would show up, not dusted. They hadn't had the heart to push the issue, so it simply hung in the air with an oppressive feeling of inevitability. There was nothing they could do to make it go away, it trailed behind them every time they came back with nothing to show for it. It hovered around their table, made the shadows seem darker with every half ration and painfully measured resource. They couldn't keep going like this, not for much longer, especially now that they had an extra mouth to feed.</p>
<p>Some of their worries lessened when they made that last lunge from a building and their pads brushed living tree bark. It felt so good to be out of the city. They had to take a moment to gather their bearings, perching on a sturdy branch from one of the larger oaks in the area before hurrying on their way. The camp wasn't much farther away and it was easier to move around in the trees, where their strides didn't have to be quite so long. The smell of wood smoke greeted them before long and a sense of peace settled over them as they made one final lunge that took them over their walls.</p>
<p>They'd expected the elementals to be surprised, it wasn't like they brought half dead survivors back to their shelter every other day. But the look in the older elemental's eyes.... it was more than just shock. When he hurried over to them to take the skeleton from their arms, there was recognition in his gaze, horror and something far far deeper. Perhaps this was one of the people he'd been hoping to find...? Even if that was the case, they weren't given the chance to linger about and learn more about the skeleton they'd found.</p>
<p>The next thing they knew, the younger elemental was shoving them towards the inner sanctuary and glaring daggers at them with a medical kit in hand. Ah... she'd seen the cuts.... Well, it was bound to get out sooner or later that they'd been hurt and they knew far better than to argue with an angry elemental. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>You know those times you wake up and forget where you are, or think you're somewhere you're not?<br/>Well, for someone with PTSD, it's not a whole lot of fun. ^^'<br/>We're back to Gaster's point of view and boy is this one a doozy.<br/>Also, we finally get to learn their name!!!!<br/>Spooky is no longer unnamed spooky.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gaster was slow to wake, it'd been an eventful few days and the lack of magic made it hard to justify moving. To be fair, he felt a little better after a bit of rest. Maybe his new companion had given him some of their strength. Maybe he could finally ask them what was going on and get a few answers about their current circumstances. But once he managed to force his wisps back to life, a sudden rush of horror flooded through him.</p>
<p>Bare cement walls loomed over him, the oppressive darkness of an unlit room closing in on him. He was on his feet before he rightly knew it, stumbling and collapsing onto the floor with panic chasing his every breath. Not again, not again! Not the darkness, he couldn't go back to the maddening silence! It couldn't have been a dream, it couldn't have been a lie! His breaths were coming in short stuttering gasps, his soul was racing painfully in his chest. He was shaking, why was he shaking? Shit, he couldn't have a panic attack, not now. It took far more effort to cast his gaze about the room than it should have. Almost immediately he was able to find differences between his bare cement cell and this room.</p>
<p>There was a bed, or more accurately a sad, beaten up looking mattress and a faded blanket that he must have dislodged when he woke up. One of the corners of the fabric was tangled around his left leg, that must have been why he lost his balance. His breathing was starting to even out, he glanced around a bit more and froze. He'd missed it at first, he'd been so panicked that he hadn't noticed the open archway in front of him. But now that he was paying more attention to his surroundings, it was impossible to ignore. There was no door.... Just a dark cloth of some kind hung from one end to the other as if to offer him some piecemeal amount of privacy. He wasn't a prisoner, not anymore. He took a few more seconds to calm his breathing before carefully untangling his leg from the blanket, frowning at it's threadbare appearance.</p>
<p>It looked as though it had seen far more use than he would have expected, so worn down that he couldn't even tell what sort of design it used to have. But there was magic and emotion clinging to the sad little thing, someone must have loved it dearly at one point. Enough that their attachment lingered in the threads beneath his fingers. Gaster couldn't help but offer a moment of silence to who ever owned it before, folding it respectfully before rising to observe the room around him in greater detail.</p>
<p>His initial assessment was more or less correct, the room was bare save the bed and sheets he'd been provided. There was no pillow, but that didn't exactly surprise him and he wasn't in any position to complain. It wasn't like such a thing was strictly necessary and they'd already shown him more hospitality than he could have hoped for. Aside for those few things, the dark colored sheet blocking the doorway was the only other thing he could see. There was a general feeling in the air, cool and heavy like stone, he knew almost instinctually that he was underground. But he couldn't say for certain how deep or where exactly.</p>
<p>Magic saturated his surroundings, though it didn't feel like it came from more than two or three sources. It was relatively fresh too, not old and heavy but light, refreshing and almost... familiar. What ever sense of unease he might have still had was washed away by that realization. This was a safe place, a good place. He could afford to relax here, at least in part. With one more deep breath, Gaster started towards the exit, brushing the cloth aside to find a hallway of some kind greeting him. There were other covered rooms, two at least and light from somewhere further down the passage, flickering softly.</p>
<p>The smell of something cooking reached him a few seconds later and he hesitantly made towards it, respectfully ignoring the other rooms. If they were anything like the one he'd been left in, they were probably personal quarters or dwellings of some kind. It would have been an intrusion if he investigated more thoroughly. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, the room was relatively small, built with something that looked vaguely similar to a hearth with a few crude counters and tabletops nearby. Cookware hung from hooks arranged over the counters, beaten up and abused looking, but still fully functional. Of course, he knew for certain what he hadn't been expecting, something, or rather, someone who was currently staring right back at him.</p>
<p>Grillby... Gaster's breath left him in a rush and magic gathered at the corners of his eye sockets. He was shaking... why was he shaking...? A rattling wheeze forced it's way out of his chest, followed by a sound that was uncomfortably close to a sob. Dammit... Why was he... why was he crying? Now that the tears had started, he couldn't stop them. It was like all of the helplessness and despair that he'd felt in that horrible cement room was finally catching up with him. To his credit, he tried to muffle himself, covering his mandible in the hopes that it would help ground him. It didn't, in fact, it didn't even help to muffle him, though physically holding his mouth closed did do something in that respect.</p>
<p>The next thing he knew, he was being enveloped by an impossibly warm embrace. The smell of wood smoke and all things <em>Grillby</em> assaulted his senses. Grease and brandy, fresh home cooked meals and the scent of deep earth. Gaster couldn't help but melt into the warmth the elemental was exuding, sinking trembling fingers into his friend's ruined dress shirt. A small, broken laugh escaped him a moment later, though he couldn't hope to articulate half of the painful feelings in his soul. After everything he'd seen already, how on earth had Grillby managed to keep his bartender's uniform? Why had he even bothered? It was stained, splotched with blood and magic and gods knew what else. The world had gone to shit and Grillby had just... kept it? Of course he had... that was just Grillby, stubborn to a fault.</p>
<p>For the longest time, all he could do was cry, clinging to the elemental as if he was his last lifeline. And Grillby held him, offering a sense of safety and stability that he hadn't even known he'd been missing. Care and concern washed over Gaster in droves, slowly easing away the frantic desperation and shuddering relief that overwhelmed him. Vaguely, he was aware of two more souls entering the room, another monster and... something else. But after everything he'd gone through in the past few days, he didn't have the energy to bother paying them any heed.</p>
<p>There was a sound, something similar to a chair being set down and the next thing he knew, Grillby was guiding him over to one of the crude tables in the room. It was like he'd released all of the horrible feelings inside of him all at once, leaving him feeling threadbare and exhausted. He didn't have the energy or resolve to fight it when his friend tried getting him to take a seat. All he could do was lean into the table and rest his skull on top of his arms, watching as Grillby went over to the hearth and took a large metal spoon away from the person who saved him from the prison in the first place. The elemental glared at them for a long moment and there was a harsh crackling snap as he turned back to what ever he'd been cooking in the first place, leaving them shuffling a little timidly away from his work.</p>
<p>It took him longer to notice the bandages covering their right arm than it ever should have. In fact, the only reason he noticed at all was because Fuku dragged them over to the table and forced them into a chair, setting down next to them and pulling their arm up to inspect it. He felt sick once she'd peeled the bandages away and he could get a good look at the injuries. Their arm was covered in horrible gashes, as if razor wire had been wrapped around it and dragged across the skin, biting into the flesh, leaving it puckered, angry.</p>
<p>It didn't look infected, he didn't think, just mangled and inflamed. They noticed him staring and quickly averted their gaze while Fuku spread something thick and smelly over the wounds. A healing salve based on the sharp odor it was giving off. It looked about right too, dark green, a bit too lumpy in his personal opinion. But for the work of an amateur, good enough to get the job done. The stitch work sealing their wounds was crude but effective, enough to hold together if nothing else, despite all of the poking and prodding that Fuku was doing. Her patient was being remarkably passive about it too, he hadn't seen them flinch or twitch so much as once, despite how painful it had to be. He didn't risk saying anything until she'd finished wrapping them in fresh bandages, bunching up the old linens with a flicker of distaste.</p>
<p>It had been so long since he'd actually spoken with someone, his voice felt strange as it left him, breezy and somehow warped... though he couldn't parse exactly what was wrong with it. <em>'What happened to them?'</em> Fuku perked slightly at the sound of his voice, almost as if she'd forgotten he was there, though it seemed unlikely. She sounded upset but also a lot more understanding and maybe even a bit dismissive when she answered him, taking the soiled linens over to a basin of water where she simply left them, presumably for his unnamed savior to wash later. "Don't know, they just came back all cut up and dirty. They probably would have just ignored their arm all together if we'd let them."</p>
<p>From the way they hunched their shoulders and hugged their arm closer to their chest, she wasn't wrong. That was... worrying... It took him longer to recognize the unspoken issue hanging in the air than it should have. She said they'd just shown up like this.... Even tired as he was, he couldn't help but glare at them, watching the way they curled in on themself a little more than before. <em>'You mean they never told you?'</em> He wasn't expecting the sad, almost mournful look on Fuku's face when she turned back to him. The way she crossed her arms in front of her made it look more like she was hugging herself pitifully, downcast and miserable. "They can't speak."</p>
<p>This was news to him! Gaster immediately turned his attention back to them, openly staring. That simply wasn't true! He'd heard them before, in the prison. They'd spoken to him, comforted him, offered him hope. They weren't mute! Why did they let Fuku and Grillby think they were? His surprise and confusion must have shown on his face somehow because the next thing he knew, Fuku was settling down in her own chair a little ways away from them. "You seem surprised by that."</p>
<p>For several seconds, Gaster took the time to mull over what he knew about them but he couldn't think of any reason why they would have deceived Grillby or Fuku. With a world weary sigh, he finally gave in and turned his attention away from the miserable looking creature sitting next to her. <em>'I heard them speak before, when we first met. Or, shortly afterward I suppose...'</em> This seemed like news to everyone in the room who immediately turned their attention to Gaster as if he'd just said that the sun was made of cotton candy. His savior's eyes were as round as moons, their pupils wide and dilated. More like a cat than a lizard it seemed. Fuku spoke haltingly, muttering quietly to no one in particular, seeming shocked more than anything. "But... that's... not possible..."</p>
<p>A sudden rush of emotions hit him all at once, projected much much too strongly and with far too much energy behind them. Shock, surprise, desperation, wonder, confusion, fear, hope and so so many more all thrown together in a tangled mess that left him feeling woozy and sick. None of it made any sense, it was too jumbled for him to find any intent or reasoning behind it. And it only even stopped in the first place because Grillby had left his place by the hearth and set a hand on their shoulder, stuttering the projections that were ramming into Gaster's soul. That was.... that was very unpleasant, when had he sunken into the table again?</p>
<p>It took him a lot longer to recover than he would have liked and after he'd finally gotten his head on straight again, he felt a subdued pulse of embarrassment, shame, guilt. Was that... an apology?!?! He slowly lifted his skull to look at them, staring despite his best efforts. So then... they really couldn't speak.... Not physically anyway. They shifted sheepishly in their seat, another pulse rippling away from them. It felt less direct this time, like it was meant for someone else to receive.</p>
<p>Grillby slowly pulled away and turned back to his work, muttering quietly to them while he busied himself making dinner. "Just try not to overwhelm him again." So, this was a normal occurrence then. The two of them had grown used to their strange way of speaking. He vaguely wondered if they'd be able to learn magical telepathy, but what ever train of thought he was following quickly ended up derailed when Fuku addressed him again. The shock was gone from her voice and her expression, replaced by curiosity, maybe even a little giddiness. "So, how did you and Echo meet?"</p>
<p>It took him a few seconds to realize what she'd asked him and he couldn't help but turn to stare at the person sitting across from him. <em>'Their name is Echo?'</em> A tight smile worked its way across her face and an almost rueful laugh forced its way out of her a few seconds later. "You wouldn't believe how hard it was to get that out of them! It was like charades but a whole lot worse. You know they can't sign, right? And there was nothing for them to write with. Oh! Don't get me wrong, they tried, but carving words into dirt, wood, brick and just anything that we came across didn't work out all that well. Their claws are good for gripping and cutting through things, but they aren't very helpful when it comes to anything small or complicated." Echo hunched inwards a little more at that, looking miserable and almost spiritless. They definitely weren't happy, though Fuku did offer them a soft pat on the back in the way of an apology.</p>
<p>With a world weary sigh, Grillby paced back over to the table and set down four different bowls filled with... something... Gaster wasn't exactly sure what he was looking at. It had the same consistency as stew, but the meat was stringy and grey. The vegetables were few in number as well, accompanied by leafy greens that he couldn't identify no matter how hard he tried. Of course, it could have been anything and he'd still have eaten it gratefully. It had been so long since he'd eaten anything more than the piecemeal rations he'd been given in that cell.</p>
<p>The quiet sound of his friend's voice pulled his attention away from his dinner and he couldn't help but notice for the first time how dim he was burning. "It's not much, but there's only so much I can do. Our supplies are running low. Echo hasn't had much luck in the city lately and their traps haven't caught anything in a while." The listless way he was stirring together his own meal wasn't very encouraging, though his flame brightened a little once he started eating. That was something... at least...</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gaster enjoys his first real meal since he got lost and something goes wrong.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick note on this one....<br/>So... this is pretty much just a setup for the next chapter.<br/>It didn't really fit in the last one and it's stuck in limbo in between two parts due to dramatic timing.<br/>It was important to point out the effects of starvation on a skeleton monster but at the same time it didn't feel right to put it in the last chapter.<br/>Similarly, there needed to be an obvious trigger to get Grillby and Gaster to talk to one another instead of having both put the whole thing off for another few days minimum while Gaster recovered...<br/>Not to mention the fact that skipping over this small part would also make it hard to understand certain future events from a reader's perspective.<br/>So... here's a small 'teaser' for the next chapter.<br/>Don't know what else I'd call it.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dinner was a somber affair. Conversation was not so much sparse as it was almost non existent. They'd shared brief greetings, yes, even one or two words of apology and basic courtesies. But no one seemed all that interested in small talk, not that there was much to talk about in the first place.</p>
<p>The food was... indescribable... Gaster wasn't certain if it was just being starved near to death or if Grillby had really out done himself with the meager supplies he'd had to work with. All he knew for certain was that it tasted amazing. But his time in the humans' hands hadn't done him any favors and he couldn't manage more than a few bites.</p>
<p>One moment he was enjoying his friend's cooking, doing his best to ignore the grim feeling hanging in the air. And the next, Gaster was doubling over in pain. His soul couldn't deal with solid food anymore, it seemed. It had been too long, he was too weak and having so much magic introduced in such a refined state was just too much. It shouldn't have felt like this, he'd only eaten a few bites. So why did it feel like his soul was struggling so much? Why did it feel like he'd been struck by some sort of magic attack, minus the killing intent that would have accompanied something strong enough to cause him this much pain?</p>
<p>The magic surged into his soul, flooding it quickly and straining at the cracks, as if the core of his being was too small to contain all of it. It burned, dragging ragged gasps out of him as he curled in on himself. His soul sat in his rib cage like a red hot coal, heat radiating outward, flooding his bones with a sensation that was... vaguely.... familiar.... Gaster felt the warmth from Grillby's flames long before his friend tried to touch him, a sudden increase in temperature that was entirely unbearable. He couldn't help but cringe away, hissing in pain as his soul fought to obtain some form of equilibrium.</p>
<p>Magic based illness of some kind... it had to be... It hurt, he felt dizzy, frail and it was like his marrow was on fire. Why was this happening to him? All Gaster could do was try to ride it out as the energy fever tore through him. It wouldn't last long, it couldn't last long. He didn't have enough magic for something like this to linger, he didn't understand why it had struck him in the first place. All he'd done was eat and not very much at that. Granted, he'd been weak for a long while leading up to this, but that was a side effect of nearly starving to death. His health should have started improving with proper nourishment, not taken a sudden swan dive in the opposite direction. It was hard to think, his skull felt like it was splitting open and vaguely, he wondered if it really was. Then came a sudden flood of relief, a soothing feeling like water racing through his bones and gently pulling at the excess magic that was making him ill. He didn't have the strength or the will to resist. <em>Take it, just take it!</em></p>
<p>The sudden absence in his soul caused him to wilt a little more, vaguely aware that he was leaning on someone now. It didn't matter, he didn't care. Mostly, he was just done with everything in general, too tired to feel scared or even angry with the people who'd put him in this position to begin with. What he did feel was absolutely miserable, tired, frayed and unbelievably, still hungry. It was a horrible feeling, the gnawing hunger in his soul and the bitter sting that came with the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to eat... that something was wrong with him.</p>
<p>Somehow, it felt worse than being trapped in that horrible underground cell. His own body and soul were betraying him, leaving him helpless, useless. Yet, as if sensing his distress, a familiar warmth crawled lazily into existence, slowly flowing into his soul as if to replace the energy taken from him. There was no pain, but the feeling of starvation gradually eased, leaving him shuddering quietly in the arms that held him. It wasn't gone, he still felt weak. But Gaster didn't feel empty anymore and the fever wasn't coming back.</p>
<p>It took more effort to refocus on his surroundings than he would have liked, in no small part thanks to the splitting headache throbbing behind his orbits. Echo was the one holding him, Echo was the one who made the it stop. For a moment he forgot that they couldn't speak, too dazed and worn thin to recall the conversation he'd had with Fuku not all that long ago. So, it wasn't all that surprising that he was half way through a question by the time it struck him that they wouldn't be able to respond. <em>'How...? How  did you...'</em>  Right, mute....</p>
<p>Grillby was staring at him, of course he was. Gaster couldn't bear to see the fear and worry that was undoubtedly twisting through the elemental's flames, he didn't bother trying to focus on him or meet his gaze. He'd probably scared everyone senseless when he crumpled in on himself like that. So, it was only natural that he missed when Grillby's expression shifted from concerned to stoic, hardened and neutral. There was an underlying rumble to his words, a distant crackling sound that took the place of pitch and tone, something a human wouldn't have recognized... Something that Gaster knew meant he was angry. "We need to talk."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Exposition!!!<br/>We get to learn exactly what Gaster's been through since the accident at The Core.<br/>And oh golly gee, some of us might have been better off not knowing.<br/>Similarly, Grillby explains to the good doctor roughly what he remembers about the outbreak and the events leading up to the dead rising.<br/>Nether story is all that rosy and both are left with much to think about and come to terms with by the end of it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grillby had Fuku escort an unwilling Echo out of the room, pushing and prodding them back towards the hallway when they refused to move an inch. She didn't seem all that intimidated by them, despite the hissing and chirping that seemed to be the strange creature's equivalent of verbal protest. It only made sense, Grillby didn't know if they were somehow involved in what had happened to him. He wasn't taking any chances, if Echo was dangerous, he'd deal with them like any other zombie. That made Gaster feel ill, even though he could understand the reasoning behind it. It was only logical, despite whatever they'd done to help them.</p>
<p>It was a sobering realization, bitter and silent. Echo was passive towards the three of them for the time being. But there was no way of knowing how long that would last. They were sentient, rational to at least some degree, capable of complex thoughts and emotions. And yet, they looked just like the creatures that were in the prison... just like the creature he'd killed. Could it be possible that they would eventually end up just like them? How many of those things had Grillby killed? How many of them were like Echo? Would they go rabid?</p>
<p>No.... Gaster couldn't explain it, but there was something different about Echo. He would need to look into things once he began to recover... if he began to recover. Some part of him was grateful that Grillby gave him the chance to gather himself, but the silence that hung between them was unbearable. It didn't help that he'd gone missing.... gods... how long had he been... A deep sigh pulled his attention back to the elemental sitting across from him and he couldn't help but be taken aback by how tired he looked.</p>
<p>It was like Grillby had aged several thousand years in the span of a few minutes. His flame was low and dim, churning quietly and passively around him. It looked like he was at his wits end, soldiering onward because he had no other choice but to do so. "So.... I think it'd be best if you started, by telling me how you're not a cloud of dust somewhere in The Core right now."</p>
<p>Ah.... a valid question... one that he had no idea how to answer. It had just been another day, just like any other. The Core malfunctioned and then.... Gaster all but crumpled into the tabletop, resting his skull in his hands, feeling ill. How could he have been so careless? He didn't even know what happened, not really... and thinking about it made his skull hurt. But... Grillby had a right to know and it was as good a place to start as any. He just hoped he'd be able to get through his story without it triggering another panic attack... or worse.</p>
<p>Deep breaths.... disconnect, find something interesting to look at, don't think, just speak. He was a scientist, a doctor, he could relay factual information without emotional bias or opinions. For a few seconds he cast his gaze around the kitchen, finding an interesting patch on the wall where the cement looked as though it was mixed improperly. If he looked at it closely enough it was vaguely similar to a spiral galaxy, maybe he could pick out make believe star clusters and solar systems... And while his mind wandered, Gaster recounted everything that he could remember, his expression neutral and distant.</p>
<p>It worried Grillby, more than anything, the way he just... dazed out. Worse yet was the completely dismissive tone of voice Gaster was using, but he knew better than to interrupt him.  <em>'The Core malfunctioned. There was a problem with the conversion matrix. Damage to the machinery itself or a compounding issue that effected the relays providing power and control to the consoles we used to regulate output. In short, if nothing was done, the entire power grid could have been destroyed, discounting the possibility of The Core imploding and taking half of the mountain with it.'</em></p>
<p>Vaguely, Gaster was aware of the sudden stillness that fell over the elemental in light of this information. So... he hadn't known how bad it was, that explained a lot. That grain of sand was larger than the others around it, the core of a solar system then. The ones around it were more sunken in and only just barely peaked up out of the grey. Planets, count them. <em>'We had no remote access to the system and we were unable to perform even basic diagnostics from the main control room. There was no way for us to confirm how wide spread the damage was or how severe. It was necessary for the science team to perform on site assessment of the effected area and take appropriate action to resolve the issue. My assistants tended to minor and intermediate complications while I dealt with the more extensive problems that often arose with The Core's extended run time. General staff were evacuated and civilians were advised to vacate Hotland's primary facilities in the event of a surge.'</em></p>
<p>Now came the hard part, Gaster took a deep breath and continued tracing the swirling patterns of sand that made up his little fake galaxy. Distracting himself was working better than he thought it would, of course, it only did so much. Recalling what came next still left his soul jittering uncomfortably behind his ribs, pulsing painfully with emotions he refused to acknowledge. <em>'The inner sections of The Core are inhospitable for most species due to the high temperatures generated by the magma itself, not accounting for the dense magic that permeates the area. I deemed it unsafe for my subordinates and resolved to inspect the main lines and conversion system myself. What happened after that, I can not recall.'</em></p>
<p>It wasn't working anymore, he cast his gaze around again, finding a discolored patch on the ceiling that might help keep his mind off of what he was about to tell Grillby. A few more measured breaths later, he was continuing on, ignoring anything relating to magic or emotion that he might have sensed in his current vicinity. This was hard enough without taking note of the elemental's reactions. <em>'Whatever it was, it happened quickly. I fell, likely into the unharnessed, unrefined magic in one of the containment blocks. I remember being surprised, shocked, enough that I failed to use my translocation magic in time. I can theorize as to what exactly happened, but other than providing you with an educated guess, I can not tell you how I survived. At some point between when I started falling and before I had a chance to be consumed by The Core, I must have tried teleporting.'</em></p>
<p>Something else to look at.... the pots and pans really were in a horrible state of disrepair... <em>'I lost consciousness and woke up on the surface, where exactly I could not tell you. I was captured shortly after that. The humans apparently forgot everything about monster kind. I was an oddity, a scientific curiosity. I was taken to a facility where they performed extensive tests on my physiological makeup. Bone marrow samples were taken, I was physically drained of magic so they could study its composition. My bone density was observed and tested. They found my facial structure and eye sockets interesting, the malleability and range of motion fascinated them. They took samples and grew more interested when the pieces they removed turned to dust hours after acquisition. The scars on my skull confused them, they spent days examining them, testing to see if the damage was permanent and trying to determine why. Parts of me were disconnected and taken into other rooms to determine if I could still feel what they were doing to which ever bone they confiscated. Later, they wanted to know if I could still move body parts that were no longer attached. I was injected with various chemicals and toxic substances to test my vulnerability to a range of different poisons and other harmful materials.'</em></p>
<p>He was keeping it together... so why did it feel like he was about to cry? No... don't think about it. The tables were a mess, what, did Grillby make them by taking a butcher's knife to a tree? They were bumpy and rough, not even rightly flat as they should have been. <em>'I was given minimal nourishment, often times mixed with a powerful drug or some other substance they wanted to test. None if it had any magic, I was forced to ration what little I had to spare, converting what I could into usable energy. They wanted to test my range of vision and how exactly my sight worked in the first place. I was subjected to intrusive examinations and exploratory surgeries without the effects of painkillers or anesthetics. The only part of me they never touched was my soul. Throughout the examinations, I was able to keep it concealed behind a screen of dense magic that the humans studied in place of it. The experiments stopped at one point and I was taken to a bare cement cell. My clothes were returned and I was subjected to extended periods of silence and isolation. The room had no windows or lights and there was nothing visible of the outside, not even illumination leaking in from under the door. My only exposure to other living creatures was when the guard brought me food and they only stayed long enough to watch me eat. If I refused to eat, they confiscated my rations and left with them, likely to prevent me from using the trays and other implements as a weapon or a means of suicide.'</em></p>
<p>This part was easier to talk about, it still made his soul ache and his thoughts race, but it wasn't as bad as his time in the larger facility. Being a prisoner was better than being tortured day in and day out. No.... stop, don't think about it, just focus on the damn table. It was chipped and looked very poorly made... he already knew that... Gaster's attention fell to the bowls they'd eaten out of. They were made out of some kind of rock or stone, smooth and well rounded honestly, what kind of tools had Grillby used to make them? <em>'I have no way of knowing how long I was held there, but eventually, the guard stopped coming. It took me longer to realize that they would not be returning than it likely should have. There had been loud noises outside of my cell some time before that, shouting I had assumed and what both felt and sounded like something being thrown. Everything went silent again after that. I spent more time sleeping than I did awake, it was the most efficient way to conserve energy. Of course, eventually, that no longer mattered. I was on the verge of dusting when Echo found me, entirely by chance, it would seem. What came after that...'</em> A heavy breath left him and he shook his skull tiredly, knitting his phalanges together and resting his brow against them as he leaned into the table.</p>
<p>
  <em>'I passed out a little after they showed up and when I woke up, we were being chased by the dead. There were others, some kind of rabid mutant beasts. They got us out and I lost consciousness again. When I came to, we were someplace quiet and out of the way, apparently a resting place or some kind of hide away. There was screaming and the sounds of gunfire. They... gave me something to help block out the noise. A while after that, we were moving again and another one of those.... things, found us. Echo was... honestly incredible. I doubt I ever could have outrun something like that. I tried to help, I almost ended up dusting myself. They were hurt because of me, because I lost my grip and fell. I have no idea what happened to their arm, all I know is they were hurt protecting me.'</em>
</p>
<p>It wasn't much in the way of repaying the debt he owed them, but if helping to clear Echo's name was all that he could do.... Gaster was damn well going to make certain that Grillby knew they weren't at fault. If not for them, he would have dusted down there. He never would have seen the sky again, he never would have escaped, he never would have.... A tight knot settled somewhere in his chest and he slowly turned his attention back to the elemental, trying not to pay attention to the pale colors shifting through his friend's flames. <em>'Sans... and Papyrus... do you know if they...'</em> Dammit, he'd lasted so long without breaking down, but the thought of his sons, the thought that they might be lost before he could even begin to search for them... Magic was gathering at the edges of his eye sockets again. Everything inside of him was worn down and raw, he couldn't take much more of this... Please... gods please...</p>
<p>Grillby sighed tiredly, running a hand through the flames on the top of his head. His voice sounded so quiet, little more than a whisper that crackled faintly in the air between them. "They were both still alive the last time I saw them. Papyrus has friends that'll look after him and if worse comes to worse, he's got Sans. The two of them together can get out of anything...." Right... right.... He just couldn't sense either of them because he was so weak, there was no guarantee they would still be in the area anyway. The smart thing to do would be get out as fast as possible, that's probably what Sans would have done. He would have taken his brother as far from danger as possible, hidden away as best he could.</p>
<p>Gaster took a few long minutes to let that information sink in, trying to still the frantic jittering of his soul. He hadn't lost them yet, he hadn't. With a shuddering breath, he managed to straighten slightly and focused on his friend more completely than he had since starting his unfortunate tale. His voice sounded weak and frail when it chimed free of him, but there was nothing he could do about that, any more than he could banish the tiredness from the very core of his being. <em>'I do not suppose, you would be willing to tell me how the apocalypse started while I was... otherwise indisposed?'</em></p>
<p>A faint huff escaped Grillby, something that might have been a laugh in another lifetime. "After all of that, 'indisposed'? Is the term you want to use...?" He sounded angry, rightfully so, he supposed. Even still, getting upset about it now wouldn't do any good. The humans who... hurt... him were probably all dead by now anyway. Deep breaths, don't think about it. The elemental must have picked up on his distress, because the next thing he knew, his friend was speaking again, still sounding bitter and angry but it was something else to focus on. "Fine. For starters, there was this big viral outbreak that was all over the news. People were getting sick left, right and center. It was bad too, a raging fever, migraines and body aches that left most people too sick to move. Some got violent, irrational. They were in too much pain to think, it made them lash out, it wasn't pretty. Then people started dying and suddenly everyone was too scared to leave their homes." Grillby got quieter as he carried on, looking less angry and more thoughtful, more tired. "But... they didn't stay dead..."</p>
<p>There was a moment of silence where Gaster swore he could have heard a fly sneeze it was so quiet. His friend stared off at nothing in particular, as if trying to trace back memories he hadn't bothered visiting in a long time. Eventually, he seemed to find a good enough place to continue, picking up with a grim air about him. "We lost contact with Washington D.C. first. Everything went dark. The news wouldn't cover it, nothing came in or out. California was next, New York, by the time we figured out what was happening, the dead were already rising."</p>
<p>Gods... how could they have allowed something like this to get so out of hand? Why hadn't they warned everyone? Why suppress the information? To prevent mass panic? Was that any better than leaving everyone helpless against what was already working its way into their homes? What was already stalking them through the streets? And what Grillby said next made Gaster feel nauseous and cold. "Anyone who got sick was dragged from their homes, kicking and screaming... Most of the time, they were shot right outside. Gangs and large groups claiming to be the local militia took over. The humans blamed us, said it had to be some kind of twisted magical plague or something. They started rounding up monsters, dusting anyone who stepped out of line. We were sent out to fight the infected, anyone they couldn't intimidate had their families threatened, used as leverage."</p>
<p>Grillby got really quiet for a while, his flames churning through dim reds and faint oranges. What Gaster was hearing should have shocked and appalled him... but after what he'd been through... It didn't surprise him. "They had kids out there... and things just got worse. Mutants started showing up. The first ones were small, kids that managed to survive the fever, I guess. Didn't look like much at first, but they were fast, fast and a lot stronger than they looked. And when they screamed? It was like they brought the whole city down on us. We used the chaos and confusion during that first week or so to make a break for it. Most of us managed to escape, but there were a lot of people who didn't make it. We got separated from our group, me and Fuku... I don't know how things turned out for the humans, not sure I really care either... but I can guess. We were their front line. Without us, they probably got overwhelmed. At some point something must have caught fire or maybe they thought that they could purge the city with flame or something. All I know is that everything was burning for a while and after it was all said and done? No where was safe anymore."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And you are now caught up with everything I've written up till now.<br/>I won't make any promises for new chapters in the coming weeks seeing as my health has declined.<br/>But with any luck, I will be able to continue verbally doodling in my spare time.<br/>And before any of you get it into your heads to worry about me. -_-<br/>I don't have a fever so don't flood the comments with concerns or the like, please and thank you.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Echo and Grillby are both overprotective.<br/>Gaster has nightmares and our friendly zombie doesn't deal with things all that well.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt like a heavy weight had settled itself over Gaster's shoulders. A thick, grim miasma seemed to cling to the air, hovering about them and darkening the world around them. Somehow, he'd been hoping that Grillby's story would be even a little less grim than his own. Foolish, yes, but he'd still hoped. Hope was all he'd had for so long, the only thing that had kept him going.</p>
<p>Of course, neither of them were given much time to mull over what they'd learned or come to terms with it properly either. The next thing Gaster knew, Echo was forcing their way back into the room again, fury and betrayal sparking off of them in a torrent of unchecked emotion that <em>should </em>have been visible, <em>should</em> have been tangible. And Fuku was pulling at their uninjured arm, flickering a multitude of embarrassed and uncomfortable colors that lilted her flame closer to pale blue or white. "I'm so sorry! I tried stopping them-"</p>
<p>An indignant shriek cut her off as Echo fixed a pointed glare on Grillby, gesturing at him with their injured arm angrily and pulling to free themself from Fuku. Gaster knew what they were capable of, knew the kind of force and power hidden in their gaunt figure and twisted appearance. If they'd wanted to, they could have thrown the young elemental across the room with very little effort. Yet, here they were, allowing her to cling to them, restrict their movements, despite how angry they seemed at Grillby. And they were certainly angry, hissing, gesturing towards him and oh... Oh, wow.</p>
<p>The sudden spike of concern and fear that whipped over Gaster left him feeling queasy. There must have been a discussion of some kind or something, because the next thing he knew, Echo was stalking towards him and Grillby was sparking indignantly as Fuku shifted and hugged herself off to the side. Then, there was a pair of glowing yellow eyes right in front of him, concerned, scared, he still felt queasy. As if realizing that they were making him uncomfortable, the emotions pulsing through the air lessened. He felt a hesitant touch on his shoulder, he was aware of his friend bristling protectively nearby, but that protectiveness never manifested into hostile intent.</p>
<p>Instead it hovered at the edges of his awareness, a warning and nothing more, something telling Echo to watch their step, keep themself in check. And they did, their magic prodding gently, searching without the frantic energy he'd felt in them before. As if satisfied, they pulled away and rested a hand against one of his scapula, glaring at Grillby harshly. Gaster didn't have the energy to resist when they started prodding him towards the hall, though he did catch sight of the way Grillby tensed and he certainly heard the warning hiss they directed at him when it looked like he was about to follow. Despite the exhaustion, he managed to flash a weary smile back towards the elemental, signing quietly to him that he was okay. It seemed enough to satisfy his friend, who offered no further resistance as Echo guided him back to the room where he'd woken before.</p>
<p>They fussed over him, guiding him back to the bed and fluffing out his blanket, tucking him in the moment he'd settled. It wasn't necessary, he hadn't had the heart to object. They were so concerned, so afraid. This was his fault. If he hadn't collapsed, they wouldn't be so worried now. It wasn't like he could have stopped it from happening, but maybe if he'd eaten a little slower it wouldn't have hit him quite so hard... Fuku appeared at the archway just as he started drifting off... just how tired was he? He'd slept a lot already, hadn't he? Why was it suddenly so difficult to stay awake? He heard her say something, her voice crackling softly just outside the room, but he couldn't hope to make it out before everything went dark again.</p>
<p>The whirring sound of a drill. Searing pain, something biting and tearing into bone, the burning sensation of magic being physically drained away from him. Something was pulling at his joints, forcing their way between his ribs. Restraints were digging into his legs, his arms, any and every part of him that might try twitching or flinching away. Fire racing through his bones, his marrow pricking and burning with some horrid foreign substance. It shouldn't have been there, it didn't belong! He twisted and pulled at the restraints, nothing moved.</p>
<p>Fingers in his eye sockets, prying at the fissures in his skull, something forcing its way between his jaws. His screams, ignored, something hard and cold scraping across his face, collecting the mottled red and yellow tears that were streaming free of his orbits. Something skating far too close to his soul, hovering just short of touching it, missing, always just barely missing. Trembling, terrified, helpless, wounded, tormented. Everything hurt and it never stopped. Where one torment ended, another began. Where the examinations stopped, the chemicals and drugs burned, leaving him writhing in agony. Please, no more. Please, just stop. Make it stop!</p>
<p>The pain lessened abruptly, without warning. Everything felt distant, suddenly hazy and off kilter. The lab warbled unsteadily, fading in and out in a way that he couldn't blame entirely on the tears pouring out of his eye sockets. The murmuring of the doctors suddenly seemed less present, less real. There was an odd, stuttering sound at the edge of his awareness, something that grew more pronounced the more he focused on it. A warm sensation washed over him, banishing the pain and just as quickly, the lab vanished as well. Darkness greeted him and after a few moments of struggle, Gaster managed to blink open his eye sockets, feeling hazy and disoriented.</p>
<p>A grey cement ceiling greeted him, it wasn't the white washed walls of the lab, no, it wasn't. There was a weight on his chest and the stuttering sound from his dream, now a steady rumble. It took him a few seconds to recover enough that he could try to investigate, turning his attention towards the weight on his ribs only to find a pair of glowing yellow eyes looking back. Echo was draped over his chest, staring at him, worried. The rumbling sound stuttered for a moment and then resumed. They were purring.... Echo was purring at him, a steady stream of calming magic pulsing over him. That explained why his dream had ended so abruptly... Of course, it didn't quite explain why they were lying down half way off of the mattress, curled over his abdomen like an oversized cat or something.</p>
<p>A pulse of concern washed over him, something similar to curiosity or inquiry. They tilted their head slightly, patient, worried. Were they asking him if he was alright? It took him a little while longer to shake off the last vestiges of his nightmare, slowly sitting upright and ignoring the way they quickly shifted away to give him room to move. The sudden absence of their magic shouldn't have felt so disconcerting. Then again, given the nightmare itself... Gaster rubbed at his face and paused when he found something prickling and wet greeting his fingers.</p>
<p>Great, he'd been crying in his sleep. He quickly moved to wipe away the tears, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. A light touch settled on one of his shoulders. They were still worried, why? Why did they care so much? Why had they bothered trying to wake him? Why had they bothered watching over him in the first place? Something warm and almost, familiar pulsed away from them. It was compassionate and almost painful.... Wait... he knew that feeling.</p>
<p>Gaster turned towards Echo with a sudden thrill of alarm, noting the way their eyes widened as if they hadn't meant for him to notice, as if they hadn't meant to share. They recoiled, looking for all the world, utterly terrified of him, as if with a single word he could tear them apart and leave what ever was left broken and bleeding on the floor. And with a sinking feeling, he realized that he probably could. They'd been... they'd been human before this, hadn't they? They'd had a family, people who cared for them, people they'd have done anything to protect. But, they were alone now, weren't they? They'd probably been abandoned. With everything Grillby told him about the outbreak, it was a miracle they'd survived at all. And here they were, caring about someone else, terrified because he knew, because he recognized the warmth they'd shown him.</p>
<p>Somewhere, somehow, they'd grown attached. Perhaps they felt some kind of kinship, perhaps that was where it started. All he knew was that the emotion he'd sensed wasn't something reserved for a stranger. No, it was familial in nature, the same feeling he had towards his own sons, soft and kind, protective and vulnerable. And they were terrified, afraid of being rejected, afraid of being despised for what they were. Because they weren't human, they weren't monster, they weren't even something in between.</p>
<p>A part of him wished he hadn't noticed, that he'd simply thanked them and gone back to sleep, because the look of horror in their eyes was just too painful, too raw. They fully expected him to... to what? Scream at them? Shout? Throw something? They were practically cowering like a beaten dog, like some small abused animal that couldn't handle the thought of further cruelty. This? Was the person who pulled him out of that horrible place? This? Was the competent waste lander that hauled his half dusted carcass back to safety when he'd been too weak to move?</p>
<p>Gaster suddenly felt ill. A brief thought occurred to him, something distant and abstract that his scattered mind snagged on because he had to find some way of making sense out of all this madness damnit! Grillby had said that the first mutants summoned others with their screams, a pack mentality? Maybe, it would make sense. They'd saved him, other zombies were clearly hostile towards them. Were they clinging to some semblance of normalcy? That had to be it, him, Grillby and Fuku were probably the only non hostile creatures they'd come across in months if not longer. They were isolated, alone and most sapient creatures were social animals, monsters, humans, even most semi-sentient mammals.</p>
<p>It must have been horrifying, waking up one day to realize that everything had changed, that they'd mutated and that there was no one for them to rely on, no one they could trust. The look in their eyes when he managed to compose himself... it was something alright. Alarmed and hopeful, hesitant, almost untrusting. This was going to take time, they were clearly suffering from some kind of mental or emotional trauma, likely both. But, he couldn't just ignore this, if he did, they'd probably only get worse. With a weary sigh, he managed to meet their gaze, his expression smoothing from alarmed to gentle, understanding. <em>'I am not angry.'</em></p>
<p>He wasn't expecting them to start crying, curling in on themself and covering the lower half of their face, which he still couldn't see past their wrappings, and shuddering quietly. Echo rocked back and forth for several moments, shaking their head frantically. Then they were turning pleading eyes towards him, begging him with their gaze alone, as if he couldn't understand the fear and desperation sparking away from them. How had they gone from comforting him after a nightmare to suddenly having their roles reversed so completely?</p>
<p>Compassion was simply in his nature, he couldn't stop himself from resting a hand on their shoulder gently, offering them a sympathetic stare. <em>'I will not mention anything to Grillby or Fuku. But you need to tell them sooner or later.'</em> A wry smile worked its way across his jaw, Echo stopped shaking. It took less effort to work a bit of humor into his voice than he would have expected, though given the circumstances, he was grateful for it. <em>'Take it from someone who knows him, Grillby gets angry when you try to keep things from him.'</em></p>
<p>A short, muffled sound like a bark escaped Echo and they quickly covered their mouth with both hands, hunching in on themself self consciously. Was that a laugh? Gaster could only shake his skull in disbelief before pulling away, shifting slightly as he got a good look at them for the first time. Echo was short for a human, or at least they would be if their feet hadn't been elongated and warped into some kind of digitigrade hybrid shape. They probably only would have been five foot six at most if not for their mutation. Their skin was pale, they probably didn't get a whole lot of sunlight, which made sense all things considered. Traveling at night was probably safer for them.</p>
<p>They looked thinner than they should have, lean and almost sickly, almost emaciated. But, there was clear definition to them as well, perhaps they simply burned through fat at a rapid rate? Their clothing was tattered and dirty, a sleeveless top of some kind with a collar that vanished into the folds of black cloth wrapped around their face and a pair of shorts that cut off just above the knee. It looked more like nightclothes than anything else, except for the wrap they were wearing. His gaze wandered to their hands, the twisted talon like claws that had warped their fingers and nails until they were completely unrecognizable. Sleeves were probably difficult for them to manage, he would have been surprised if they didn't have trouble finding clothes that fit after being changed so drastically.</p>
<p>Echo shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. Ah, he'd been staring too long. Gaster averted his gaze for a few moments, running a hand over the back of his skull with a sigh. He was honestly far too tired to deal with so much all at once. First it was the sudden jailbreak, then the rush to escape a dust hungry mutant, waking up in another cement room, the sudden bought of magical illness, recounting everything that happened to him and Grillby's retelling of the end of the world, not even counting his nightmare or now this. He really just wanted to go back to sleep, rest for the next few decades maybe. But, that wasn't an option, at least not a healthy one. It would have been escapism at best and irresponsible to say the least, not to mention ungrateful.</p>
<p>After a few moments, he leaned against the wall his mattress was tucked into, muttering softly as he stared off at nothing. <em>'You... out of all the people you could have run into on the road.... The last ones you have to worry about being judgemental or harsh just because of the way you look or sound... You realize, you can just be yourself around the three of us, right?'</em> It should have been easier to talk to them, to say what he had to say. But regardless, if the look they were giving him was anything to go by, he'd made enough sense. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Echo doesn't tell Grillby.<br/>Gaster worries about Echo and everyone is in for a nasty surprise.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Echo had been acting strangely since their discussion the night before, or at least, he thought they were. It was hard for Gaster to make a decent judgement on their behaviors when he'd only known them for a few days at most. But they seemed more withdrawn and skittish around Grillby, more subdued. It was easy enough to notice considering how small their shelter was. He'd realized rather quickly that there were only three personal quarters, one for Fuku, one for Grillby and the one he'd been given which apparently used to belong to Echo.</p>
<p>They seemed content to sleep just about anywhere, though he couldn't help but feel guilty after learning that he'd essentially stolen their bed. If Fuku hadn't mentioned it, he wouldn't have known at all and probably wouldn't have put two and two together for another few days at least. It was shocking how little Echo seemed to care about their own comfort. From the first minute he'd woken in the underground shelter, they'd been more focused on making him feel safe and welcome than anything else. After the first nightmare, they'd made a habit of staying in the room with him when ever he decided to rest for a bit. And, as embarrassing as it was, the friendly mutant insisted on providing him with magic twice every day. Once in the morning and once as he was preparing to turn in for the night.</p>
<p>If there were any chores to be done, it seemed the others had unanimously decided that he was exempt for the time being. Likewise, Fuku grew frustrated and upset when ever Echo tried using their injured arm for anything at all, insisting that they take it easy while they heal. In the end, the cuts on their arm had cleared up after just two days of dressings. He'd at least been allowed to help by taking out their stitches, even if Grillby had hovered like he was worried they'd snap at him if he ended up tugging on a particularly tender stitch. The lack of trust started to get on Gaster's nerves after just the first few days.</p>
<p>Grillby wasn't violent towards Echo, but saying he was friendly towards them would have been an outright lie. The elemental tolerated them and only just. It was like sitting on a powder keg with fireworks going off all over the place. Yet, somehow, they didn't seem to care. The hostility was met with either complete dismissal or a surprising amount of flexibility. They never retaliated or if they did, it was only ever in small, harmless ways. There was no pettiness or anger, there was annoyance and frustration, but that was about it.</p>
<p>As for Fuku, she treated Echo kindly. Their relationship seemed almost like that of siblings, the young elemental often scolding them and fussing over their injured arm which was met with an odd almost bemused sort of gratitude. The sheepishness he'd seen in Echo on that first night faded rather quickly, though he did notice that they seemed to take on a submissive posture in most situations. Either, they were trying to keep the three of them from having any reason or desire to go their separate ways, or they were just more inclined towards a supportive role.</p>
<p>Despite his hopes, time passed and nothing changed. Echo didn't seem interested in trying to explain themself to Grillby, or they were simply too nervous to handle it on their own. Granted, they at least had a valid excuse. Trying to get through that sort of conversation without a voice was going to be difficult and it wasn't like he'd had the magic or energy to try teaching them to communicate telepathically. Yeah... it probably would have flown over like a lead balloon, especially if they felt for the elemental in the same way they cared for him. Grillby was a strong, independent flame elemental who'd survived the great war and was even still in his prime. The last thing he'd be willing to accept was some stranger, who might or might not be a murderous savage, mothering him like a fresh spark off the pyre.</p>
<p>Most people who knew Grillby saw a calm, composed and proper gentleman. A bartender with a certain quiet, patient and almost stoic air about him. What they didn't know about him, was that Grillby was a firebrand. A hothead, a bonafide spitfire with a temper that could reduce half a forest to ash in seconds. Fire elementals as a rule were well known for their explosive temperaments and while his friend was better about it than most, he was still right vicious when he felt it was justified.</p>
<p>So, Gaster didn't feel all that guilty about it when he woke one morning to find that Echo had slipped away while he'd still been sleeping. He'd given them a chance to come clean on their own, now it was time for him to break the news to Grillby as... delicately as he could. There was bound to be a lot of cursing and probably a fair bit of sparking and hissing and spitting, but if nothing else, it would be a lot worse in the long run if he tried pretending he <em>hadn't </em>noticed. When he found Grillby that morning, the elemental was going through a small off shoot that seemed to function as some kind of pantry.</p>
<p>The shelves were almost bare, a small, pathetic stack of dried meat and a few cans the only supplies they had left. That wasn't good, not at all. It made a whole lot more sense why their meals had been so lean now, why Grillby had stopped preparing food for him once they'd learned he couldn't keep it down. Gods, no wonder Echo had slipped away, they were probably afraid of the four of them going hungry. It only took his friend a few seconds to notice him and if the slight dimming of his flame was any indication, he'd been hoping to keep the state of their stores hidden for at least a little while longer. Still, it was a bitter feeling when Grillby took from the stack of dried meat and plucked one of the cans off the shelves, leaving a chicken scratch on a board positioned between two cubbies. His voice was a quiet murmur as he slipped past him on his way to the kitchen, seeming tired more than anything. "I'll have breakfast ready in a few minutes."</p>
<p>With as dim as he was burning, Gaster had half a mind to pin him down and perform an immediate medical exam. But it wasn't as if he had the strength or magic to do something like that. And, if he was being entirely honest with himself, he wasn't doing much better than the elemental was. No, scratch that, at least Grillby was well enough to eat solid food. He couldn't even manage a few bites of mystery stew himself... Best wait until he'd eaten at least, before broaching the topic of Echo's... attachment to the three of them.</p>
<p>With any luck, Grillby would be in a better mood with some extra magic to burn. Either that or it'd just make things more difficult, but he had to at least try to find a decent enough time to broach the subject of the elemental's unfair treatment of their resident zombie. Echo didn't deserve to be treated like some kind of criminal or lethally poisonous snake. They were trying so hard, doing everything they could to help in all of the ways that were most important. It wasn't their fault they'd gotten sick, it wasn't their fault they'd changed. And it was bad enough they had to live with the consequences of something so far beyond their control.</p>
<p>Grillby's attitude could only be detrimental to their recovery, more specifically, to their mental and emotional state. If what he'd already seen was any indicator, they were desperate for approval and given the state of the world around them... Being desperate to prove themself to the three of them could become deadly. Lost in thought, Gaster wandered back to Echo's room, sitting on the bed and folding his hands in his lap while he waited for Grillby to finish with breakfast. If Echo wasn't back before then, he suspected that the elemental would probably confront him about whether or not he'd <em>eaten</em> yet. True to his expectations, his friend didn't disappoint, though the conversation was sure to take a turn that Grillby wouldn't like. Or... it would have, if the two of them had ever gotten the chance to speak.</p>
<p>Fuku screamed, a shrill, horrified sound that had them both sprinting down the hall before either had a chance to question what was happening. It occurred to Gaster, briefly, that he'd never seen the upper levels of their shelter before. Exploring hadn't been very high on his list of priorities, it still wasn't. Though, he did take note of the heavy door and ladder as they made their way to the surface where the scream had come from. What they saw when they got there had the skeleton freezing in his tracks.</p>
<p>Echo was back. Echo was covered in blood, pale and ragged. Fuku was trying to get them to settle, sit down, maybe rest for a moment so she could get a look at their wounds. But they didn't seem interested. Instead, they turned their attention to him and Grillby. Their eyes crinkled slightly with the hint of a triumphant smile and they lifted a very heavy looking hiker's pack that was stuffed full of... something. Giddiness was pulsing away from them, bright and exhilarated. Then, they collapsed.</p>
<p>The next few minutes passed in a rush. He'd had to examine their wounds, determine the best course of action, stop the bleeding. They'd been shot.... Echo had been shot. There was a bullet lodged in their shoulder, it had to be removed. No damage to any vital arteries. Severe bruising on their abdomen, a quick check confirmed several cracked ribs. Glass shards were stuck in their back, Fuku provided him the added magic he needed to pull them out. The wrap they used to conceal their face was sticky with blood, definite head injury, probably a concussion, he would have to monitor them.</p>
<p>Their right leg looked pretty messed up too, mangled in a way that made it look as though something heavy had fallen on them. Again, no damage to vital arteries. Either Echo was used to finding trouble, or they were very lucky. He ran out of medical supplies, they didn't have enough medical supplies... what had Echo even brought back that was worth <em>this?</em></p>
<p>Holding their wounds closed with his magic, Gaster tore open the hiker's pack, pausing at the sight of what was inside of it. Canned goods, a lot of canned goods, as well as packages of dried meats, dehydrated fruits, vegetables and.... medical supplies. They had everything he needed. He got to work without a second thought, hurrying to disinfect their wounds and stitch them back together before they lost any more blood. All the while, Echo was unresponsive, unconscious more than likely.</p>
<p>By the time he'd finished, Grillby had already relocated everything but the medical supplies he was using to their underground shelter and even returned to check up on them. For the first time, he seemed concerned about Echo instead of just concerned that they might hurt someone. If only it hadn't taken them limping back to camp half dead to get that sort of reaction out of him.</p>
<p>Still, Gaster was grateful for it when Grillby stooped down and scooped them up to carry the friendly zombie back inside. Much as he hated to admit it, he probably wouldn't have been able to carry them himself. Fuku stayed with him to help gather up what he hadn't used to patch Echo back up, dim and pale, shaking all the while. Apparently, this was the first time she'd seen them hurt this badly and after glancing over the shards of glass he'd removed from their back.... Gaster couldn't blame her for being so worried.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter will be from Echo's perspective explaining what the f*** just happened.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Echo goes scavenging for food and runs into trouble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was no right answer. Echo knew that right from the start, even if they could sense that Gaster knew what he was talking about when it came to Grillby. If nothing else, he seemed confident enough in his own assumptions. He was right, they should have done something to help the others understand how much they meant to them. But... how could they ever hope to explain themself? Without a voice, misunderstandings and misinterpretations were pretty much guaranteed.</p>
<p>So, they'd done what they always had. They'd kept to themself, tried their best not to let their unease over the whole situation show too horribly much. They failed more often than not. Fuku was being more attentive than she normally was and Gaster kept giving them funny looks when he thought they weren't watching. It didn't help that they could <em>feel</em> how worried the skeleton and the young elemental were, how impatient their newest companion was growing over time. It was hard to miss those sorts of things since both of them seemed so dead set on keeping them inside until their arm was healed.</p>
<p>They were spending more time around their companions than they normally would have, hunkered down instead of being out looking for food like they should have been. The older elemental had always been very territorial when it came to the kitchen or anything relating to the meals he prepared. Even still, Echo found the time late at night when both elementals were burning dim in their own respective rooms to slip into the pantry and check their supplies every now and then.</p>
<p>It was never a good idea, often times setting a nervous energy twitching down their spine and prickling along their arms towards the tips of their claws. But it helped them gague exactly how long they could afford to let their<strike> pack</strike>... friends, dote on them. If nothing else, keeping Gaster from getting any sicker was easy enough, but he still needed food, right? Persisting on magic alone couldn't be good for him, they knew that much, they'd done it themself before.</p>
<p>Their hunting instincts already had them feeling restless and confined by the time the stitches finally came out after two days of non stop <em>nothing.</em> They needed to stretch, they needed fresh air. They needed to run, scavenge, something, anything. But Fuku and Gaster seemed to be in agreement that they needed more rest. It was infuriating, though they did their best to ignore their shelter's dwindling supplies. That is, until they couldn't anymore. With the last of their patience gone, they waited until the others were well and truly asleep before slipping away into the night.</p>
<p>A bemused smile twitched at their lips and they started humming to themself, following a tickling train of thought as the familiar notes of the sound of silence whispered along beside them. Their mother had tried getting them to listen to the original version of the song, but by then they'd already grown attached to the later remake by the band Disturbed. Unfortunate but unavoidable. When you grew up with something, you tended to attach more meaning to it. Their humming grew quieter as they neared the city and before long, they dropped it all together in the name of stealth.</p>
<p>Alright... fun time was over. Perching on their favorite oak tree outside of town, Echo took a few minutes to recenter themself, taking deep breaths and preparing for the worst. Night was safer for traveling in some aspects, but the more specialized mutants like themself would be more active, harder to avoid. Reapers could pop up just about anywhere and during any time of day as well. But as a general rule, their kind were more inclined towards nocturnal behaviors.</p>
<p>First on the agenda, where did they plan on going? Most of the outer city had already been picked clean, there was a lot of fire damage that wasted most of the smaller grocery stores and food markets. The smaller fallen <em>sanctuaries</em> they'd scavenged were just that, scavenged. They'd already taken everything they could. That just left.... They let their gaze travel to the deeper sections of the city, suddenly feeling nervous. The mall was their only viable option at this point. Sure, they could scavenge the rest of the city first, but the mall was the only place they were guaranteed to find food. It had been converted to some kind of base at one point and a lot of the supplies from all over the city had been gathered there to provide for who ever was still in <em>the militia's</em> good graces.</p>
<p>Echo knew that they'd been over run at some point, the shattered defenses hadn't been all that difficult to recognize, even from the outside. But large buildings like malls were dangerous, more dangerous than the prison they'd broken into. There were just so many places for the infected to hide, for them to nest and grow territorial over. But... they didn't have a choice... did they? Their supplies were down to a stack of dried meat and a few assorted cans of food. All together, it wouldn't be enough to last them till the end of the week, no matter how conservative Grillby was.</p>
<p>With a feeling like steel in their chest, they started on their way, a plan of action already set in their mind. The journey itself was rather quiet, they didn't see many mutants about and those they did were relatively easy to avoid. No reapers, though that was at least somewhat understandable. It wasn't all that uncommon for reapers to form packs, hunting together rather than alone. Of course, lone reapers weren't all that uncommon either. It was really a roll of the dice most of the time. Even still, if the reaper that died the other day <em>had</em> been pack bonded to other reapers, the pack would probably still be scouring the section of the city where it died which was thankfully a fair distance from where they were going and where they were now.</p>
<p>Another few calming breaths and Echo was slipping inside of the abandoned shopping center, sending a pulse of their magic outward like some sort of makeshift sonar. It didn't always work, sometimes they still missed something important, something dangerous. But it was better than going in completely blind. There were infected nearby, they knew that well enough, the fevered magic writhing inside of those sick but still alive was rather hard to ignore. Even still, they pressed on, flashing between pools of shadows and flitting across lobbies as quickly as they could.</p>
<p>It didn't take them long to find what must have been the main storeroom and oh boy were they glad they'd made the call to scout the mall. There were a few drones inside, hibernating in their spare time between meals. Echo dealt with them quickly, ripping out the last zombie's throat with their claws just as it was preparing to scream and alert the rest of the mall to their presence. The gurgling wheeze it gave out as it lunged for them wasn't much better. But drones were slow and stupid, the results of decay and repeated abuse to a body that could no longer repair itself. It was a simple thing, dodging the flailing body and swiping their claws over the nape of its neck, severing the spinal cord and robbing the creature of its ability to move.</p>
<p>With that sorted, they immediately set to work. It felt like they'd won the lottery when they found a half decent mountaineer's pack, all decked out with its many pockets and compartments for everything they could possibly need to bring with them. As they were passing a few stacks of clothing on their way to the foodstuffs, Echo paused, the memory of Grillby's stained shirt and Fuku's tattered school uniform flitting through their mind. Gaster's clothes were in a similar state of disrepair, tattered and burned, though they had no idea why.</p>
<p>After a moment of hesitation, they started sifting through the piles, feeling pleased with themself when they found a fresh dress shirt that looked like it would fit the older elemental. A little carried away, they quickly gathered up a few other things that looked like the clothes he'd been wearing when they first met the two, including a set of dress shoes that would probably end up ruined by the time they got them back to camp. Oh well, it was the thought that counted. After they'd gathered at least one change of clothes for each of their companions and materials for hemming the stuff they'd picked up for Gaster, they gladly started gathering food.</p>
<p>There was just so much in the storeroom, canned, dried, dehydrated, it felt like they'd hit the jackpot. At some point they stumbled upon a box filled with assorted spices and quickly investigated it for anything with medicinal properties. They weren't an expert, not exactly, but their mother hadn't raised a fool either. After collecting more thyme than they could possibly use, they grabbed a few other things that would help if they ever got sick again and decided to treat Grillby while they were at it. Echo had learned rather quickly that the older elemental enjoyed cooking, even if it left him tired more often then not. And with so many spices to choose from, they gladly took anything they thought he might like.</p>
<p>Finally, they stuffed as much medical supplies into their bag as possible, rethinking their shoddy organizational skills almost immediately afterward. They could do better than this. After a bit of trial and error, and taking their tattered bag off their back to use for the clothes, they were satisfied with their work. All told, their trip to the mall had taken a lot longer than they would have preferred. It was already light out again by the time they made it back to the lobby, content with their haul.</p>
<p>A metallic click cut through the silence. There was a deafening bang and searing pain. Echo stumbled, nearly knocked off their feet by what ever had left a feeling like white hot iron in their shoulder. They didn't hesitate, they didn't pause to inspect their new wound, because nothing had ever hurt this bad after they'd mutated. Blind with panic, they took off in what ever direction they were currently facing, back into the mall, towards the escalators. Bad call, a very bad call. They heard another click and barely managed to leap off the railings towards the upper lobby, hissing in pain when the hiker's pack threatened to pull them down. They were aware of something striking the escalator but Echo didn't have enough time to bother with it.</p>
<p>In the next few seconds, they were hauling themself up over the rails, dragging the pack with them. If those jerks thought they were going to give up their prize, they were dead wrong. Someplace to go, someplace to hide. With a stutter in their step, they shed their backpack and clipped it to one of the many hooks on the hiker's pack. There was no way they were getting blood on Grillby's new shirt. Spotting an off shoot meant for resupplying stores, they dashed towards what looked like a promising hiding place. It was a shame they weren't the only one who thought so.</p>
<p>The alpha reared back before they'd even had time to notice it was there and the sudden wave of force that washed over them sent Echo flying. They smashed into something, there was a sound like shattering glass and a sudden ringing in their ears that blotted out everything else. Their head hurt, their vision had gone funny, it was hard to think. For a few seconds, they simply lie there, too dazed to move, then they remembered the Alpha. It wasn't chasing them? Didn't matter. They tried getting up, their leg wouldn't move.</p>
<p>Still hazy, they tried taking in their surroundings. Dazzling spots danced before their eyes, the shadows almost seemed to shift and pool around them. A mess of shattered wood was responsible for their stuck leg. Had to get free, had to get out. It didn't take them long to start shredding apart the pile of debris that was holding them down. At some point, they recognized a collection of thin white and black tiles, suddenly furious. A piano, it was a stars damned piano. Like hell they were going to die to a death trap that was so childish and cliched!</p>
<p>Breathless and in pain, they finally managed to stumble free of the shattered storefront. The sounds of gunfire echoed through the mall, it seemed the tank had found something more interesting to chase. Good, they deserved each other. The pack, they had to find their supplies. Still dazed, Echo tried looking for their belongings and froze. A lanky middle aged man in tattered camo gear was trying to haul <em>their</em> supplies back towards the sounds of fighting. They. Saw. Red. And for the first time since they'd mutated, Echo attacked a human.</p>
<p>A feral screech tore free of them and they lunged without a second thought. The human flinched, dropping the pack and struggling to lift his gun in time. Their claws tore through metal, mangling the weapon in its owner's grasp. What came after that, they weren't entirely certain. All they knew was that the pack felt so much heavier than it should have while they were hauling it towards the nearest outside facing window. Only having one fully functioning arm was probably to blame for that little tidbit, their leg wasn't doing much better either.</p>
<p>The journey back home was something they only remembered in brief flashes. They didn't care, they'd won. Of course, their victory high didn't last very long once Fuku saw them. She screamed, setting a nasty ringing in their head as they tried to make their way back inside. Of course, she was making that bit difficult, tugging at them and trying to get them to sit down. They didn't want to sit down, they wanted to dump out their pack for Grillby right away. He'd be so happy to see what they'd brought back. Then he was there, Gaster just behind him. Echo lifted their prize as high as they could, grinning like an idiot, then everything went black. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello darkness my old friend. XD<br/>They had to make a joke of it, they just had to.<br/>Also.... is that considered foreshadowing? : /</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gaster helps nurse Echo back to health and learns more about them than he ever wanted to.<br/>Grillby starts softening up a little bit... sorta... eh... maybe if you squint?<br/>Gaster finally eats something.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He'd learned more about Echo's unique physiology in the past few hours than he ever wanted to. Their blood coagulated at an alarming rate once exposed to open air, yet while it was in their body it either remained a liquid or quickly reverted to its original state, preventing blood clots before they could ever form. The result was that their wounds would close quickly even without treatment, limiting blood loss to volumes that normally wouldn't be much cause for concern.</p>
<p>The head injury was more significant than he initially believed, yet it wasn't all that difficult to clean and dress, a side effect of the fact that it wasn't bleeding as much as it should have been. A normal human likely would have died, either from blood loss or brain damage. Gaster had done enough inspections with his magic to confirm that while damage was present, it wasn't life threatening, or it didn't appear to be at least. There weren't any signs of hemorrhaging and he'd been able to determine that their brain was repairing itself just hours after his initial assessment. Their other injuries were already healing as well, though strangely, it seemed that the shallower a wound was, the longer it took for Echo's body repair it.</p>
<p>While he'd been inspecting their bones with his magic, trying to determine the severity of the damage, Gaster had learned that they were denser and stronger than an average human's. More accurately, the bones were reinforced with magic and several other materials that he couldn't identify without taking samples, something he adamantly refused to think about. <em>The whirring of a drill, biting and tearing into bone.</em> <strong>DON'T THINK ABOUT IT!!!</strong> Deep breaths, focus. The proteins and structure of their musculature were altered as well, though again, he couldn't confirm exactly what was so special about them without studying the tissue directly which he. Would. Not. Do.</p>
<p>Out of everything about them, their face was probably the least altered, though he could understand why they made a habit of keeping it covered. The overall structure was more angular than he was used to seeing in a human, high cheekbones and slim features, more ovular than round, though that was perhaps an understatement. Their chin was rather pointed, though given a smooth curve rather than jutting out in a manner that would have been unseemly or out of place. It left them looking rather young, not childish, but early on in years. Early thirties, late twenties perhaps. Of course, the fangs threw all of that off just slightly. The incisors were longer than average, more reminiscent of a carnivorous creature and they were one position too far forward. Granted, they seemed to have more sharpened and pointed teeth than molars or anything besides, but he hadn't bothered taking a closer look.</p>
<p>Their ears were different from what he'd expected as well. No signs of earlobes or the typical structure he was used to seeing in humans. Instead, the ears were similar to those of bats, an unobstructed canal that fed into something resembling a funnel. In some ways they resembled the depictions of elves he'd seen in some of the more exotic fantasy materials that ended up in the underground. Long and pointed, positioned on either side of their head where human ears normally would have been instead of sitting atop it like a cat's. The angle was more vertical than the depictions he'd seen, though they were certainly slanted. Of course, that angle could have been a result of the way they wrapped their face. Their ears had been pinned to the sides of their head when he'd taken off the wrap to inspect their head wound. While unlikely, it was still possible that they'd set in that position after being held that way for extended periods of time.</p>
<p>It appeared as though their magic was more active when they were injured as well. It sparked and swirled within them, seeping into their wounds, likely to speed the healing process. The end result was less than favorable. While it did help them heal faster, it also resulted in a fever that left them twitching and writhing in their sleep, kicking off blankets nearly as quickly as he could cover them. The fever made Grillby nervous, seeing Echo tossing and turning probably reminded him of the early days of the outbreak. This wasn't the same thing, it was just an energy fever, even still, the elemental was on edge.</p>
<p>It made sense in some respects, he supposed. When Gaster had first checked their stats, his first reaction was shock at the sight of their LV. Shock, quickly followed by surprise and confusion at the clear discrepancy between LV and EXP. Their level of violence was higher than anything he'd ever seen before short of a mage, yet their execution points were rather low. By most accounts, they shouldn't have had an LV over eight... at least... not without advanced combat training and strong offensive magic. Their temperament was too patient, too caring to have the sort of cold blooded savagery that came with an LV over twenty. But, here they were, with an LV of forty seven, at which point they should have been fully capable of killing without thought or remorse.... At which point, they should have completely lost any semblance of compassion or kindness. Grillby's distrust of them was well founded, at least, based on numbers alone...</p>
<p>The first few hours were the worst. Gaster had to repeatedly wake Echo from their fitful slumber, something that wasn't always easy, though he was grateful for their fondness of him in those moments. Even when they woke in a blind panic, his presence was seen as a comfort rather than a threat. And with them flip flopping between varying states of delirium from the pain and the fever, it was definitely a good thing that they felt safe with him. If their claws could tear into concrete and steel, he really didn't want to find out how much damage they could cause to bone.</p>
<p>Their condition started to visibly improve six hours after they returned to camp. The fever grew less severe and Echo started drifting in and out of consciousness on their own, often only staying awake for a few minutes at a time. But it was better than nothing and it certainly made it easier to make certain that their head injury didn't end in a coma. By the morning of the second day, the fever had fallen to a more reasonable temperature and they were no longer delirious.</p>
<p>A quick check with his magic confirmed that the brain damage was gone, repaired overnight. The rest of their wounds however, were more persistent. It didn't help that Echo wasn't willing to sit still. For some reason beyond his understanding, they wanted to get up and move around. Their wounds had to have hurt, they had to have been in pain. But they showed no signs of discomfort aside from slight dizziness and lethargy from both the fever and the blood loss.</p>
<p>In the end it had taken all three of them to convince the stubborn mutant to rest and it had only even worked because Grillby had snapped at them for straining their wounds. They'd grown timid and submissive after that, curling into the blanket quietly and burying their face in the mattress. If he didn't know any better, he would have thought that they were sulking. But the general feeling he got from them was startled and then depressed or self deprecating more than anything else. If he had to take a guess, he would say they were beating themself up over worrying the three of them and for making Grillby angry.</p>
<p>Gaster nodded off at some point during the night of the third day and when he woke up, Echo's bed was empty. He'd been so busy looking after them that he'd hardly slept himself. So seeing that they'd snuck out again was just about the most infuriating start for his day that he could have been forced to deal with. Of course, he hadn't expected to find them in the kitchen, stirring a pot buried in the coals of the hearth. They glanced his way and offered a him a sheepish smile, shifting in place slightly before going back to what they were doing.</p>
<p>In the time Gaster had known Echo, he'd never seen them cook even once. Grillby was always the one who prepared their meals and he never liked it when other people messed about with his work space. It was a surprise, to say the least, though he was forced to admit to himself that they didn't <em>look</em> as though they were having trouble standing. There weren't any signs of stress or difficulty in their posture, though they were dipped forward slightly with their shoulders hunched, clearly uncomfortable with having been caught.</p>
<p>What ever they were making smelled... nice. Salty with undertones that almost reminded him of pasta noodles. Then, they were pulling the pot off the coals, setting it down atop a makeshift trivet that clearly wasn't a trivet at all. It was some kind of warped metal plate, likely torn from a signpost or a building or something. Echo was moving carefully, apparently having taken to heart all of the constant reminders that they had to avoid straining their wounds. Gaster didn't expect them to set down at the table with two bowls, quietly sliding one of them towards him.</p>
<p>It smelled good, he wanted to try it, but the memory of his first attempt at eating was still fresh in his mind. He wished he could have put more fight into his voice when it chimed free of him, quiet and faltering. <em>'You know what happened last time. If I tried eating it.... it would just go to waste.'</em> But... Echo didn't seem happy with his response. They simply shook their head and pointed at the bowl, then at him, glaring pointedly with one of the most sour looks on their face that he'd ever seen from anyone. A general feeling of stubbornness pulsed away from them, insistence. They weren't going to let it go.</p>
<p>Uncomfortable and nervous, he hesitantly took a seat in front of them, staring down at the yellow broth in his bowl. What had they even given him? A few quiet stirs with his spoon revealed soft noodles and small squared chunks of meat. He blinked at it a few moments before it finally clicked and Gaster turned an incredulous stare towards Echo. <em>'Did you... seriously get out of bed and sneak into the kitchen, just to make chicken noodle soup?'</em> There was a moment where the mutant simply yawned, looking tired despite themself, then they nodded and pointed at him before going back to their own bowl.</p>
<p>For several seconds, all he could do was blink at them owlishly, taken aback. He wished he could have sounded less baffled when he finally found his voice again, though it wasn't as if they could explain themself very clearly. <em>'For me?'</em> Another nod, they finished their bowl and pushed it away from themself, crossing their arms over the table and burying their face in their forearms. It was... honestly a kind gesture, even if now wasn't the time or the place for it at all.</p>
<p>But... this, he might actually be able to manage. It was light and if Echo was the one who made it, then there probably wouldn't be very much magic in it at all. With a feeling of trepidation, Gaster tried a sip and shuddered at the feeling of fresh magic slowly trickling into his soul. The transfusions helped, they'd lessened the feeling of starvation and his health had even been improving with the added support. But they were nothing when compared to real food.</p>
<p>It took a surprising amount of will power to sit still and wait instead of devouring the entire contents of his bowl without a second's pause. The only thing that stopped him was the memory of his soul burning in his chest. If the soup was going to come back to haunt him, he wanted to make sure the backlash was as minor as possible. When nothing happened even after several minutes, he finally started eating in earnest, fighting back the stinging sensation crawling along the outer edges of his orbits. He was not going to cry over chicken noodle soup damnit!</p>
<p>By the time he finished eating, his soul was sitting heavy in his chest. But there was still no pain, no burning, no fever. There was a mild sense of discomfort, almost like the core of his being was being stretched ever so slightly. A faint sense of warmth was tingling in his bones and it took him a few seconds to recognize it as normal. But that was just it, wasn't it? He was supposed to have enough magic that the marrow in his bones felt warm. It was almost strange to have so much magic, though he knew that his soul should have been capable of holding a lot more.</p>
<p>Even still... that feeling of discomfort.... he wouldn't be able to eat anything more. With a bitter sigh, he pushed his own bowl away, mirroring Echo's posture. He felt tired and the soup wasn't helping. Finally being able to eat something had left his mind in a pleasant haze and he was suddenly very reluctant to move. The next thing Gaster knew, he was startling awake at the sound of a harsh crackling snap. Grillby was standing in the archway leading to the kitchen, arms crossed, glaring at both of them. Well shit, the fact that there were two bowls on the table made him look like an accomplice. He would have tried explaining himself, if Echo hadn't went and poured a bowl for the elemental and taken it to him already.</p>
<p>For several seconds, Grillby just stood there, staring them down without showing the slightest hint of interest in the bowl of soup they were offering him. Then with a huff and a crackle of discontent, he took it and started towards the table, muttering irritably to them. "Don't think this gets you off the hook kid." Echo simply flashed another one of those sheepish smiles to Gaster once Grillby had his back to them and they shrugged softly, rolling their good shoulder while they left the other mostly limp. Despite being caught red handed, they didn't seem all that upset. Perhaps they were simply happy that they'd gotten him to eat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those of you who are curious, yes, Echo is gender neutral/sexless physically as a result of their mutation.<br/>Am I going to elaborate on that? Probably not!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A nice change of pace, little bit of slice of life where no one really has to worry about all that much.<br/>Echo gets back on their feet and Gaster starts feeling better.<br/>SIGN LANGUAGE!!! YEEESSS!!!!!<br/>Echo learns to communicate!<br/>And there is an unexpected surprise waiting for everyone at the end of the chapter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Echo was easier to get along with than he would have thought. They were a little more energetic than Gaster would have preferred given the fact that they were still healing. But all told, they were pleasant company, despite the language barrier that stood between them. After learning that none of them were particularly uncomfortable with their outward appearance, they'd stopped covering their face, though from time to time, Echo still appeared unsure about the decision.</p>
<p>For the most part, the three of them had left Echo's backpack alone after they'd come back injured. It looked like there was something inside of it, but it hadn't been all that heavy and there had been a lot of things to organize and deal with already. Between Echo's injuries and the massive hiker's pack they'd dragged back to camp, the small tattered bag hadn't seemed all that important. Of course, they'd been more than happy to prove them wrong.</p>
<p>The moment they were well enough to leave their room without Grillby glaring at them until they slunk back to bed, they'd went straight for their old backpack. Gaster hadn't expected them to start pulling out fresh changes of clothes for all of them, or the sewing lessons that followed when it became painfully obvious that the things they'd picked up for him wouldn't fit without adjustment. It was honestly quite pleasant all told, they were patient and he'd had enough experience stitching wounds together that it wasn't all that foreign a concept. It wasn't as if he was a slow learner by any means either and if he'd been left alone to deal with it, he probably could have figured it out on his own. But the company was appreciated, even if they'd directed him, by way of charades, that his stitches needed to be closer together and smaller in general.</p>
<p>Most of their instructions were either conveyed through broad gestures and facial expressions, or projected emotions and intent. Something that both made them easier to understand as a person and harder to understand in basic conversation. He didn't mind all that much. The added complexity was welcome. It gave him reason to think more often, stretch his mind instead of shuffling onward one day at a time without all to much thought involved. Having something to do with his hands also provided him some degree of relief, making him feel less confined within their small underground shelter.</p>
<p>It wasn't nearly as bad as being trapped in the cement cell where he'd nearly starved to death. The company and the fact that he wasn't a prisoner anymore made it much better, knowing he could leave any time he wanted made him feel better about it. But having Grillby and the others dote on him as they did, performing most of the basic chores and insisting he take the time to recover left him feeling restless. Stir crazy, was the term if he remembered right. It involved long periods of inactivity where one was typically confined to one specific place, associated with a nearly frantic energy that built up over time as a result of being unable to move around or act as one pleased.</p>
<p>If nothing else, he wasn't the only one who seemed effected by it. Echo threw more into their interactions with him than was strictly necessary and once his new clothes were ready, they'd lept at the opportunity to learn when he'd offered to teach them sign language. It was almost surprising how fast they learned, picking up on the basics in a matter of hours, though they still stumbled over themself when trying to recall specific signs on their own.</p>
<p>When practicing with him, they showed great promise, though he quickly learned that their memory was pattern based. It took repetition and a genuine effort to fix something into their mind. Fortunately, the language barrier between Echo and the rest of them seemed a good enough motivator. By the third day, they were communicating in short, stuttered sentences, seeming pleased with themself when ever they managed to convey something properly.</p>
<p>The energy they gave off was brighter, happier, almost childlike in its jubilance. And once he'd been well enough to try teaching them how to communicate through telepathic magic? They'd been overjoyed. In retrospect, he should have expected them to learn as quickly as they did. Echo had already gained a fair bit of experience in the very basics, communicating raw emotion and intent. It wasn't all that hard to teach them how to elaborate with rough concepts and ideas. The biggest stumbling block he'd expected was for them to try thinking words at him, but that particular concern never seemed to become a reality.</p>
<p>It almost seemed like second nature to them even before Gaster began teaching Echo, like some long forgotten skill that they should have learned early on in life. Even still, they continued practicing sign language, seeming to enjoy the added complexity even after they could communicate clearly through their magic. Perhaps they simply enjoyed having something to do with their hands that wasn't made nearly impossible by their claws? And, Gaster was enjoying the lessons as well. Seeing Echo brighten every time they got something right was nostalgic, despite the fact that he often times had to force the image of a smiling little skeleton out of his mind.</p>
<p>The lessons were also rather informative, he learned more about the friendly mutant during their time together than he would have expected. One of the first and hardest to ignore bits of information he'd gathered, was that their ears twitched and moved around in response to their emotions and what was happening around them. It was... distracting more often then not. Most of the time because he would forget for short periods of time, caught up in something only to have his train of thought derailed when their ears twitched or moved unexpectedly in his peripheral vision.</p>
<p>When they were upset, the ears would droop slightly, angling backwards and dipping lower. When they were happy, they would perk up, twitching slightly with excitement. If Echo was annoyed, their ears would flick slightly, angling backwards while remaining rigid instead of drooping like they did when they were upset. It was a little bit of added visual information that wasn't strictly necessary, though it appeared to be entirely unintentional. And if nothing else, the added <em>personality</em> it gave to their interactions with them, as well as the fact that they now had a solid means of communication, seemed to help Grillby relax around Echo.</p>
<p>The elemental wasn't quite as prickly anymore or as quick to react defensively around them. The more they interacted with the three of them, the more he appeared to see them as a person rather than another mutated beast of the apocalypse. From time to time, it almost appeared as though he simply forgot that they weren't a monster. Sometimes Grillby would smile around them, sometimes he would treat them more like a petulant child than the hidden threat that he had until then.</p>
<p>And they were certainly childlike. There was a grimness to them from time to time, clear intelligence and wisdom that belied a much more mature outlook on the world. But Echo wasn't shy about their feelings or opinions. More often then not, they allowed emotion to make their decisions for them and they didn't try to elaborate on their reasons for doing something. All in all, they had a very whimsical nature, one that could flourish with the smallest act of kindness and wither at the slightest sign of disapproval.</p>
<p>The three of them all learned at roughly the same time that they were much better informed then they appeared to be as well. At first, when Gaster had learned that Echo had brought back an excessive amount of thyme and other assorted items with herbal properties, he'd just assumed that they'd picked them up with the other spices because they liked the taste. But Echo was quick to correct that notion, insisting that anything with medicinal properties be kept separate from the other things in the pantry.</p>
<p>When Grillby pointed out the thyme, they'd insisted that it was effective in treating illness, that when brewed properly into a tea, it could help someone recover. Of course, Gaster <em>had</em> been aware of this, but apparently both elementals were not, though his friend had given him a suspicious sidelong glance once they'd mentioned it. If he had to take a guess, the elemental was remembering some of the bitter herbal concoctions he'd brewed for the troops during the later years of the war when illness became a concern.</p>
<p>Despite the grimness of their circumstances, the days grew comfortable in their small shelter, almost lighthearted. Of course, nothing lasts forever. It had started like any other day, though perhaps a little different as Echo was finally recovered enough to leave camp. None of them had been particularly happy with the thought of them heading out alone, but the three of them weren't oblivious to the friendly mutant's more primal urges. The feeling of being confined was often something that wafted away from them, a single minded longing itching along the back of their mind off and on that could plainly be felt by others when they communicated telepathically. They'd needed to stretch, to run, breathe in the scent of the forest and feel the wind on their skin. But they'd held back, ignored their instincts and remained in doors to please the three of them. And with a greater understanding of Echo, none of them had been able to refuse once the last of their wounds had mended.</p>
<p>Of course, none of them had expected the friendly mutant to come barreling back into camp less than three hours later, a mixture of urgent, terrified and excited emotions sparking off of them in a rippling tempest that they'd had to reign in before they could even hope to make any sense. Their mind was too scattered for them to communicate properly by thought and they seemed to be in too great a rush to deal with sign language. But if nothing else, Gaster had managed to gather that they wanted him to come with them, something that Grillby wasn't all that pleased to hear.</p>
<p>But, he'd relented after long enough, even if he'd still seemed agitated, worried and uncomfortable. If it wasn't his pride that made Gaster hesitate when Echo tried getting him to climb onto their back, it was the way his friend was looking at him like he might never see him again. The most he could do is offer Grillby a brief smile and sign a gentle <em>I'll be fine</em> to him before the two of them left. The trip was almost relaxing, if not for the fact that he knew what lurked outside the walls of their shelter. But, he'd have to learn about the state of the world more in depth sooner or later. And while the silence of the forest was disconcerting, it was also understandable.</p>
<p>If the animals hadn't been scared off by the zombies and their mutated counterparts, then they'd learned to keep quiet to avoid being killed. Where ever they were going, Gaster was certain to pay attention to their surroundings, picking apart the forest to the best of his ability from his position on Echo's back. There weren't many signs that anything was amiss, aside from the clear lack of activity in the area and the overgrown trails that wildlife had once frequented.</p>
<p>There was a booming roar from somewhere nearby and Gaster couldn't help but flinch, Echo came to a halt in the upper branches of a tall poppel tree. Down below them, roughly thirty feet or so, there was a large hole in the ground, something obviously dug out intentionally. It was at least ten feet deep, but what really drew his attention was what was trapped inside of it. A hulking brute of a beast, one of the larger creatures that had been trampling the rotting corpses in the prison.</p>
<p>It was easily eight feet tall, broad shouldered and massive, muscular, powerful. He couldn't understand why it hadn't managed to climb out of the hole, at least, until he took a closer look. The edges of the pit were raw, covered in scuff marks and missing chunks of the forest floor from the creature's failed attempts at crawling free of its prison. As if answering to his unspoken question, Echo's voice reverberated through his mind, a feeling like grim determination shadowing in its wake. <strong><em>"Tanks can't climb."</em></strong></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A little bit more information on telepathic magic.<br/>Communicating through thought isn't as simple as thinking words at someone.<br/>The mind itself provides a translation for the information being conveyed so trying to add vocabulary to it will only complicate things or make it not work.<br/>Instead, focusing on things like emotion, intent, rough concepts and ideas or general meanings is what's needed.<br/>If you're heavily dependent on words specifically, then the ideas being projected to you would be condensed by your own subconscious into a more desired format.<br/>If you're more open minded and flexible, you'd probably end up getting a less summarized form of what the other person wants you to know.<br/>So Echo just skipping over that little stumbling block really saved them a lot of time and frustration.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The tank screams at Echo and Gaster and tries to get out of their nice little hole.<br/>Echo has a really stupid idea and somehow manages to rope Gaster into it.<br/>Skeledad questions his life choices.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt as if the world had stopped spinning while he stared down at the creature trapped at the bottom of the massive pit beneath them. Why had Echo brought him there? What were they planning on doing with it? What did they hope to accomplish? Did they want him to help them kill it? No, if that was their intention, they likely would have taken Grillby instead. He was still weak and even if they knew about his skill in combat, they definitely wouldn't have risked his safety or well being. He wasn't as strong as Grillby at his best either, even if he could outclass the elemental in maneuverability and had the advantage where hamstringing an opponent was concerned.</p>
<p>Echo didn't know anything about his magic aside from what he'd shown them. So if not to fight, why were the two of them there? Even if the... Tank? <em>Was</em> trapped, there was no guarantee it wouldn't figure out that digging its way free was still an option. True, it would take time and there was always the chance of the creature messing it up somehow and getting stuck... but the chances of that happening didn't seem likely. If it was as strong physically as it appeared, it could easily rip itself out of any trap or snare. Such things were unlikely to do more than trip it or stutter it for a moment before the creature realized what happened and decided to break free.</p>
<p>Could it track them back to the camp? Gaster stared down at the creature, suddenly much more afraid of the hulking brute. Echo must have sensed his unease, because their voice was washing over his mind along with a gentle wave of calm. <em><strong>"I want your help curing it."</strong></em>  If Gaster could have described that moment, he would have said it felt like everything stopped. His soul nearly froze in his chest and all he could do for the longest time was cycle that one sentence through his mind over and over again. They wanted him to help them cure it? That was... <em>how?</em> He didn't even know what was making the thing sick in the first place! And even if he did, how do you fix mutation? Something like that could be forced, you could cause something to mutate, but you couldn't reverse it!</p>
<p>Then Echo was flitting through the trees, as if searching for a better angle to view their captive from and he could hear their voice, reverberating in his skull, scattering his thoughts like roaches. <em><strong>"I'd have asked Grillby. But he'd have filled the pit with fire the moment he saw it."</strong></em>  That... that made sense. Gaster had to... reluctantly agree that they were correct in that assumption. The elemental didn't take chances, especially not when lives were on the line. An enemy was an enemy, regardless of why they were fighting. That was just the sort of mentality anyone who'd survived the war had been forced to take on.</p>
<p>Mercy and compassion only went so far and it didn't stop an enemy scout from putting an arrow in someone's back. Did that make Echo the scout in this scenario? And they'd just decided <em>not</em> to kill the Tank, even if they could have? Could Echo have killed the creature alone? Gaster remembered the sight of their claws ripping into steel and concrete. Yes. They could have killed it on their own. It would have been risky, they could have gotten hurt, especially with the creature trapped as it was. Echo was fast and very proficient with the use of their claws, but such close quarters wouldn't do them any favors against such a large enemy. If the thing leaned one way too far it could cut off their retreat or block an attack or stars forbid, actually catch them.</p>
<p>He didn't like the idea of that thing getting a hold of them. It's hands were enormous, large enough to fit his skull in one palm and still have room left over. And... Echo was still talking, their voice calm and collected, didn't they realize the sort of risks something like this would entail? <em><strong>"It can't get out, at least not for now. And if we act fast, we should be able to keep it there. There's not much prey in the area so feeding it's going to be an issue. It won't eat dried meat or cooked foods, though it doesn't have much of a problem with spoiled stuff."</strong></em>  This had to end, what on earth were they thinking? That they could what, tame it? Pamper it like some kind of lost puppy?</p>
<p>It was a behemoth, a gigantic, rabid beast. They couldn't just feed it and expect the thing to let either of them go. It would turn on them the moment it got the chance! He probably should have tried to shoot down the idea gently. He probably should have tried reasoning with them diplomatically. But with the way the tank's roaring was rattling his skull, he couldn't think clearly enough to try being understanding. All Gaster could think to do was shout, panicked and horrified. Because if that thing made it to camp, it wouldn't matter if it didn't have ice or water.</p>
<p>The creature could probably stomp out Grillby's flame with sheer force if nothing else, especially if it caught them off guard. And if it busted down a wall, the majority of their defenses would be worthless. <em>'Are you crazy!?!?! That thing might be bigger than Asgore! And you think we can what? Fix it?'</em> Echo came to an abrupt halt, one claw clutching onto a branch tightly while they braced themself with one twisted foot against the trunk of the tree. What he could see of their expression had grown old, hollow, tired. And the emotions he could feel from them?<em> Stars,</em> it was unbearable, sinking and bitter. Sad, wounded, tired, isolated and alone. Then came their voice, quiet and resolved. <strong><em>"Yes. We can. Or do you think I was always this way?"</em></strong></p>
<p>It felt like his soul skipped slightly in his chest, then Echo was right back to scouting the area while he tried to organize his thoughts. It was obvious that they were one of the mutated creatures of the world, anyone with the ability to see could have realized that. It was old news, old information that wasn't really all that interesting anymore. But they were different from the others, rational, kind. What made them different? At first he might have thought it was simply a different form of mutation. But if that were the case then there would have been more like them and their insistence that they could <em>fix</em> the Tank definitely killed that theory. So reviewing old speculations wouldn't be worth all that much.</p>
<p>There really was nothing for it besides to ask them. Something he hadn't done all that much because, obviously, mutating probably wasn't a fun memory. Still, the way they'd said it made him hesitate, did he really want to know what they'd been through? No, but he didn't really need all of the fine details, did he? So, feeling nervous and guilty, he finally asked what he should have over a week ago. His voice was quieter than he would have liked, there really was no way of fixing that.<em> 'What makes you so different from them?'</em> Echo paused again, halting atop a branch that gave them a bit better vantage point on the pit below them.</p>
<p>The tank was covered in scars, angry speckles and lines of reddish pink that looked relatively new. It must have gotten into a fight recently, stars knew what would have been strong enough or crazy enough to square against something like that. For a few seconds, they simply stared down at their captive, dropping into a crouch atop their perch, their ears angling backwards and drooping silently. Then they were speaking, something old and weary pulsing through his mind alongside their voice. <strong><em>"I'm not sick anymore. That's all, the only thing that separates me from them."</em></strong>  Stars it was painful, like his soul was made of stone, weighing heavily inside of him with every bitter and wounded emotion he could sense from Echo.</p>
<p>Even between the three of them, they couldn't stop their friendly mutant from feeling abandoned, outcast, alone. It was clear that Echo cared for them, perhaps too much, but could they truly replace all that they'd lost? No, it was arrogant to think so even if they meant well. But was what they said true? Was the only thing that separated them from the other mutants an illness that they no longer had? If so, how had they overcome such a dangerous disease that obviously had no problem persisting in the victim's body for over a month? All valid questions, even if every one of them was somehow related. And... he really had no choice but to ask, especially if he was actually going to consider... Stars help him, how could he even think about going along with this hair brained idea of theirs? <em>'How did you overcome the virus?'</em></p>
<p>They blinked, ears flicking back up and twitching in his direction, as if they'd been off in their own little world. Then they were shaking their head and straightening up, their entire body tense as they stared down at the tank. The emotions he was sensing from them shifted again, something stubborn and harsh in them, determined, unwavering. <em><strong>"It wasn't me. Someone locked me up and left enough food and provisions to keep me going for a while. There wasn't anything to drink that wasn't mixed with so much herbal medicine I could hardly stomach it. The real kicker, was that it wasn't all that hard to get out once I had my head on straight again. Without the fever muddling my thoughts, it was pretty easy to open the place up again. All we have to do is keep the tank sheltered, stuff it with enough thyme to kill a cow and pray that something bigger doesn't eat it in the meantime."</strong></em></p>
<p>The beast hadn't stopped roaring, screaming at them from its prison, determined to rip them both limb from limb. He tried to ignore it for the time being, tried to look past the frenzied rage in the creature's eyes, tried to see in it what he saw inside of Echo. It wasn't that simple. Echo was still special, different in more ways than one perhaps, he couldn't say for certain. All he could do was voice his doubts quietly as he watched the tank struggle to drag itself out of the pit, unsuccessfully. <em>'You really think that will work?'</em> He saw their ears flick backwards and droop slightly, saw half of them frown. But they didn't give voice to any doubts, something stubborn and resolved in the air about them. They sounded, they felt, about the same. Wishing, hoping, praying that it would work, uncertain if it truly would. <em><strong>"We have to try."</strong></em></p>
<p>And Gaster found that every ounce of resistance left in his soul had fled him. He couldn't turn his back on this creature, not now. Somehow, Echo had managed to wear him down. Had they known when they'd taken him? Certainly not, he hadn't ever mentioned being a doctor and he was sure that neither Grillby nor Fuku had mentioned it. Perhaps, they'd simply sensed he wouldn't leave another living being to die like this. He was too sentimental, too emotional, too kind. One day, it was going to get him killed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's basically just more of them talking about what they're going to do.<br/>Echo learns that Gaster's actually a legitimate doctor.<br/>We get a little bit of insight into skeledad's personal life before the accident.<br/>Not much, but it's still kinda cute.<br/>Gaster finds out he's more protective of Echo than he thought he was, he's not sure how to feel about it.<br/>And Echo admits that they might have unintentionally eavesdropped on his conversation with Grillby.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It turned out that Echo's plan was more of a rough concept really. True, they were no slouch when it came to wilderness survival. But Gaster got the distinct impression that they were making it up as they went along. Granted, the results weren't exactly horrible, but he couldn't help but cringe inwardly at the sight of the pitiful shelter they'd built over the trapped Tank. Swiftly uprooted saplings woven together with grass fibers and tree bark... It didn't help that they'd had to get pretty close setting it up either, though he'd managed to help with his blue magic so at least they hadn't needed to get within striking distance of their captive. What scared him most about the situation was that Echo probably would have done it all by themself if he hadn't agreed to help them. They had risked everything to drag him out of a zombie den and then carried him across a destroyed city all by themself after all. It wouldn't have surprised him if they were willing to go just as far for their newest... acquaintance.</p>
<p>It wasn't that the shelter they'd made was particularly horrible, not really. They'd actually done a good job with the materials they'd had to work with, he'd certainly seen worse... Yes... he'd definitely seen worse. It was just that he was still having trouble convincing himself that this whole thing wasn't a massive, horrible, unbelievable mistake that could get every one of them killed. But then Echo did something he hadn't been expecting. Once the shelter was made and they weren't worried about the Tank getting rained on or pelted by any number of other unpleasant things resulting from the unpredictable weather in their region... They'd crouched down just short of the creature's striking range, staring at the Tank as it reared up and scrabbled at them futilely.</p>
<p>Something changed in the air, he could feel it, warm and muzzy, leaving him feeling mildly drowsy despite the fact that it wasn't aimed at him directly. It felt safe and comforting and... Oh! Oh, he recognized this... now it made sense why he'd relaxed so quickly the night he'd gone over his own horrible experiences with Grillby despite the fact that he'd scraped all of his trauma out into the open. They'd drugged him with magic... Somehow, he wasn't upset about it. It hadn't stopped him from having nightmares, but they'd helped him sleep which he'd needed desperately and they'd been there to help him when the memories came flooding back, dredged up from the darkest corners of his mind.</p>
<p>And the result on their captive audience was immediately apparent. The Tank stopped screaming at them, stopped struggling, stopped lashing out at them from the hole it was trapped in. It only remained conscious for a few seconds, huffing and growling incoherently before falling still, its breaths heavy and deep. Echo turned back to him, smiling brightly, their ears wiggling in triumph. And their magic?<em> Stars,</em> their magic. It was bright, flushing with joy and satisfaction, their pupils blown wide. Well... if he was ever going to change his mind, it was too late now. That look was worse than the dog pack in Snowdin when they wanted him to take time off to play.</p>
<p>True, they had each other and no shortage of time or space to roam around. But just like any normal dogs, they were obsessed with bones and Gaster's ability to summon them at will meant they'd been enamored with him the instant they'd found out. Which incidentally, lead to more afternoons filled with swarming dog monsters all targeting him with the most pitiful puppy dog stares that they could summon from what ever unholy realm had the nerve to spawn such things. Honestly, he knew it was meant to be cute but really, it was like that look was designed to make him feel guilty. And... he really couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Echo now. Damnit, this Tank had better actually get better. If it disappointed them, he'd never forgive the thing.</p>
<p>Granted, he probably wouldn't have an easy go of things if he wanted to do anything with those feelings. But it didn't change the sudden swell of protectiveness in his soul when he thought of how Echo would feel if their plan didn't work. Oh... oh dear... when did he get so attached? Maybe he was just the slightest bit too close to the matter... Nope, thinking about it objectively didn't help. Well fuck, he couldn't imagine his life without Echo somehow attached to it, not anymore. It had been what? Two weeks? If that? Maybe longer? How had he grown so attached so quickly? He'd heard that trauma could trigger emotional dependence or sudden attachment but still... He was thinking about them in the same context as Grillby and he'd known Grillby a hell of a lot longer. The elemental had been there for him in some of the worst parts of his life, carried him when he'd been too weak to stand, lifted his spirits when he'd only had sorrow and grief left to call his own.</p>
<p>Could the short time he'd known Echo truly compare to centuries worth of loyalty and care? Why couldn't he convince himself otherwise? Was it because they were the first person to show him kindness since his... Was it right to call it a <em>kidnapping?</em> It felt like such an understatement, something that belittled his suffering and all of the horrors the humans had forced on him. But stars, he didn't know what else to call it. Then, Echo's voice was rippling through his mind, dragging him out of his thoughts which had rapidly begun to spiral ever deeper, ever darker. <strong><em>"I think if I range out farther, I should be able to find something to hunt. Probably a bear unless I miss my guess. Grizzlies are about as territorial as Tanks and they can actually put up a decent fight against some of the infected."</em></strong></p>
<p>The thought of Echo fighting a bear was enough of a shock for him to drop his cruel ponderings. Could they actually manage that? Probably but like hell was he going to just let them go hunting bears without a weapon or anything like that. No, no and a million times no! No infinity! No to the heat death of the universe! They must have read something in his emotions or in his intent, because their voice was steam rolling over him before he could even try to voice his objections. <strong><em>"I've killed grizzlies before. They aren't that dangerous if you catch them off guard and my nose is actually a lot better than you'd think."</em></strong></p>
<p>There was confidence in their magic, amusement, pride. Why did it feel like they were preening? This was nothing to be proud of, nothing to joke about. They were going after grizzly bears? How was that in any way a good idea? One hit from a full grown grizzly could... Well, actually... probably <em>not</em> break bones. Their bones were a lot stronger than a humans, but it would certainly wind them and their throat was still awfully soft. Their skin and the flesh underneath, while changed in ways he couldn't comprehend without taking the time to study it... Was still very easily pierced and rent. And while a grizzly bear's claws weren't as intimidating or brutally effective as Echo's, a bear had a lot more weight to throw around.</p>
<p>This wasn't a good idea, it wasn't safe or smart or... And they were speaking again, something rancid and horrible settling in his soul, clogging his magic in his non existent throat as if the words he'd meant to speak were a physical thing, silently choking him. <strong><em>"Besides, there's a lot of meat on a grizzly and I don't think I'll have another chance to scavenge the mall for supplies. The first time ended badly enough and the group of humans I ran into were too well armed for a small force. If they survived, they'll have either stripped the place clean, or made it a base. I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen if that's the case." </em></strong>Gaster felt cold, his mind flitting from one horrible possibility to another.</p>
<p>Echo could probably win in a fight against several armed assailants if they had to. But would they have the intent for it? They might have a level of violence that was ridiculous, but they were also remarkably gentle and patient. Even if they could fight, even if they could force themself to kill... he didn't want to put them in that kind of position, not ever again. But he wouldn't have choice, would he? Even if he found a way to help them, even if they let him go on hunting or scavenging trips with them. The humans were still out there, armed to the teeth, ready to kill anything that wasn't one of their own at a moment's notice. They wouldn't ask questions, wouldn't hesitate, wouldn't see reason. He'd lived through the war, he knew what humans were capable of once backed into a corner.</p>
<p>The image of a small child holding a knife flashed through his mind, murder in their eyes, pain exploding in his skull when he hesitated just an instant too long. It was just fortunate Grillby had been nearby, it had been stupid of him, thinking that a child would be any different. He spoke quietly, signing wearily so he had something to do with his hands. It was always easier to talk about heavy topics when he was signing, it gave him something to do with the frantic energy that always kicked up when he thought about the war... Or more recently... his capture. <em>'No.'</em></p>
<p>Then Echo was kneeling down with their back facing him, their voice echoing in his mind with something old and heavy weighing it down. <strong><em>"Let's get you back to camp before Grillby blows a fuse. I'll need your help making an extract and what ever else we need from the medicinal herbs, the stronger the better. I can hunt while you're working on that. If you don't know how to do it already, I can teach you before I go."</em></strong> Gaster hesitated for a few seconds, quietly swallowing the last few scraps of his pride as he looped his arms around their neck. He took one last look at the Tank and murmured softly as Echo sprang into the trees. <em>'No... I can manage that much, at least.'</em></p>
<p>Something lighthearted and mildly amused flitted through their magic, hazing at the edges of his mind while their voice echoed out to him. <strong><em>"Oh? Well, aren't you just full of surprises. Looks like we have a doctor in the house."</em></strong> A short, stuttered laugh forced its way out of him as they lept from tree to tree, nearing the camp in only a matter of minutes. Their comment earned them only a quiet murmur, thoughtful and resigned. <em>'Actually yes, the best in my field.'</em> Echo slowed, something surprised and sorrowful in their magic. There was curiosity there, but it was muted, quiet and hollow, guilty. Something similar to a sigh rocked through them, whispering along the edges of his mind and then their voice came. <strong><em>"I'm sorry."</em></strong></p>
<p>Gaster blinked for a moment, nonplussed and muttered softly, doing his best not to think about Echo's reduced pace. <em>'What are you apologizing for?'</em> Something short and clipped escaped them, not quite a laugh, not quite a bark. It sounded bitter, almost spiteful and he could feel something similar in their magic. Hiding their emotions wasn't something they could do easily, especially not when they were communicating with him by thought. It still hurt while they answered him, a soft growl rumbling in their chest. He could feel it vibrating through them, rolling from somewhere near where their soul would be. <strong><em>"I overheard some of your conversation with Grillby... mostly all the worst parts, I'd think. My hearing is better than I like sometimes."</em></strong> Gaster swallowed hard, doing his best to ignore the sudden sting in his chest.</p>
<p>Knowing that Echo knew was painful, it felt like betrayal, chased silently by some hazy feeling similar to shame. He hadn't wanted them to know, some irrational part of him was upset with them despite the fact that they hadn't really done anything wrong. His emotions were weird sometimes, he hoped Sans and Papyrus never found out what he'd been through. They didn't deserve that kind of thing hanging over them. It was his burden to bear, he was fine... Well, not fine exactly but he'd done all of this before, hadn't he? Not quite to the same degree, no. He'd never been tortured during the war but he'd definitely been left with plenty of demons to deal with.</p>
<p>With a shuddering breath, he rested his skull against the nape of their neck and tried to ignore the throbbing in his soul. It wasn't fear exactly, he was safe... Or well, safer than he'd been in a long time. But it was still there, some unreadable, heavy thing that sat rancidly inside of him. He'd have to deal with it eventually, but for now, he was simply content to survive. For now, he would do his best to ignore it. Objectively, he knew that suppressing trauma was a very bad thing. Realistically? He wasn't ready to deal with it. Sooner or later, Grillby would probably confront him about it. Gaster wasn't looking forward to that.</p>
<p>When they returned to camp, Echo left him to talk to Grillby and get started on the medicine they needed to treat the Tank. It would be<em> wonderful</em> trying to explain what they were doing... Yeah, he wasn't going to bother. If the Tank didn't respond to the treatment, then he'd tell Grillby. Until then, best to leave him out of it. It would only stress the elemental out more and probably dig a nice deep grave for his trust in Echo. Hell, he wasn't even completely sure of the plan himself and that didn't bode well, especially not if the elemental managed to catch wind of it. So, Gaster simply set about working on preparing the medicine.</p>
<p>He hoped Echo managed to stay out of trouble... He had a sinking feeling that trouble would be finding them.  </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Turns out it wasn't just some random person that locked them up.<br/>Echo goes hunting and Gaster's bad feeling is proven right.<br/>Really short chapter, we see a little more of Echo's inner thoughts, turns out they're slightly murder hobo over the people who hurt skeledad.<br/>And they continue to somehow juggle both being a badass and being a well meaning dork.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were some things Echo never thought about. Or more accurately, some things that they made a point of never thinking about. That was why they'd been vague when Gaster asked them how they got better. They didn't bother thinking about <em>who</em> had put them there or <em>why.</em> They didn't dwell on the past or what it could have meant to be left alone with no obvious means of communication or directions to any sort of fall back point or safe place. The recordings were enough for them, hidden in the massive library of songs on their MP3 player, either parting gifts or words of strength to keep them going. Such sentimental fools... And yet they were grateful, hoped against all logic that there was someone waiting for them out there still, praying it was more than just one someone.</p>
<p>But there was no room for such things outside the safety of their walls, no place for such things in the confines of their camp. If they thought about it, it would tear them up inside, eat away at their resolve and weaken them more than any battle wound ever could. So they willed themself to <em>forget</em> and they <em>lived!</em> It didn't matter that they weren't human, they'd found something more. The past was in the past and it did them no good to dwell on it. Sure, they'd been distraught initially but the scents outside of their shelter were either gone or too old to trace by the time they'd come to their senses... providing they could have even recognized them in the first place.</p>
<p>Besides, there were far more pleasant things to fill their time with rather than moping around and mourning for a family that they had <em>absolutely</em> no evidence <em>what so ever</em> to support even the <em>slightest</em> thought that they might be dead. Yeah... Okay, they had issues. And they might have felt a bit guilty about dragging Gaster into their mad scheme to save a very real, very dangerous alpha from the virus. This was a bad idea and they knew it but something inside of them twisted painfully when they thought of... Not happening, they weren't going to kill it.... At least... not until it became a threat to the others. They couldn't put the three magic kin waiting back in the camp at any sort of risk. The mere thought of it left them jittering with nervous energy, their claws twitching and their shoulders tensing.</p>
<p>If <em>anything</em> threatened their <strike><em>pack</em></strike>... Echo shook their head violently, correcting that train of thought stubbornly while they darted through the trees. <em>Friends,</em> their <em>friends.</em> If anything threatened their <em>friends,</em> that anything wouldn't live long enough to hurt anyone besides them. They could take a bullet, they could take a chest full of buckshot and get back up. They could handle being thrown through walls, crashing into trees, being bitch slapped thirty feet through the air by a tank. Gaster on the other hand.... not so much. He'd been on his deathbed when they found him, he was still weak, still frail. They wouldn't let anyone, anything, hurt him. Not while they were still breathing. And if they found a few humans in white coats that looked a little too familiar to him? Well... They'd killed before, even if it was only drones and their more dangerous counterparts. What was a few more bodies to the pile? They weren't human, it was high time they stopped pretending that they were.</p>
<p>Something heavy and musky ripped their train of thought off course and Echo came to a stop on a sturdy looking branch amidst a cluster of larger oaks to sample the scent more carefully. That... wasn't a grizzly... It smelled similar but there was something wrong. They cracked open their mouth and tasted the air, nearly gagging when they were met with the vileness of matted blood and festering rot. Hellfire and purgatory! If it was a grizzly, it wasn't anymore! <em>Yugh!</em> probably killed by a pack of reapers or a tank or something. Stars above, they wished they hadn't done that, now it was in their sinuses! The more primal, instinctual part of them wanted to rake claws over their face until it went away. The more rational part of them realized that, no, that would be a bad thing. Also, Fuku would be pissed if they came back bleeding again.</p>
<p>The earth rumbled, or it felt like it did and then the tree was collapsing with a deafening crack and a shuddering lurch. Echo hit the ground hard, a horrible sting setting between their shoulder blades as something massive and clearly <em>not a tank,</em> loomed over them. It reared back and they tucked into a roll, mammoth claws gouged heavy trenches into the forest floor. A horrible deafening roar ripped over them like a physical blow, causing their knees to buckle before they could spring into any of the larger trees nearby that might provide them some form of shelter. And they were quickly lurching away from what ever <em>thing</em> had found them when it came lumbering over to them seconds later.</p>
<p>Matted fur with patterns of dark and light brown flashed through their field of vision, pain roared to life across their back. It wasn't deep, they could take it. Echo charged for the nearest tree, a thundering sound trailed along behind them. Not good, it was too close and they were limping. Thankfully, it turned out that they were more agile than the creature pursuing them. When they launched into the air and kicked the trunk of the tree to send themself rocketing off to the side, the massive beast barreled head first into it. With another horrible cracking sound, the tree was felled, crashing a little too close to them for comfort. But now they'd gotten a good look at what was attacking them... and they wished they hadn't.</p>
<p>It wasn't a tank... they wished it was a tank. Instead, as the horrible thing began to pick itself back up and turn blazing crimson eyes towards them. Echo was forced to admit that they were at a horrible disadvantage. It wasn't a grizzly bear, not anymore. It was infected.... it was infected? They didn't know animals could get infected! Wait... did that mean they could get sick again if it bit them? What about its claws? The infected bear charged at them again with another one of those horrible roars and they just barely managed to lunge out of the way as it came barreling past. It was too angry to fight smart, not that it needed to... an infected grizzly... what were the odds?</p>
<p>It crashed through another tree and roared again, swiping at its face. Maybe it got wood splinters in its eyes? Heh... they could only hope. Something in their right leg didn't want to work right when they tried getting up and a cold wash of horror tore through them when they noticed three deep gouges in their thigh. They hadn't even felt that... when had it... as it was running past them? This was bad... bad bad bad.... By the time they'd managed to come to terms with the fact that, no, they couldn't outrun it anymore. The grizzly was done with what ever rage filled grooming it was doing after smashing into its latest tree. What did they have to work with? Their claws, relatively no agility compared to what they <em>should</em> have, compared what they <em>needed.</em> It rounded on them, snarling, pawing at the ground. They were out of time! Echo cast around for something, anything and their gaze landed on a sturdy looking willow nearby.</p>
<p>Well... it wasn't a <em>great</em> plan. The bear charged and they threw themself towards the tree with a pained screech. There was a moment where they thought the noise had startled the infected grizzly off their trail and then the thundering sound it made as it charged across the ground was far too close for comfort. It felt like they were racing bulls in a crowded street, like they were running from a stampede, like they were trying to escape a semi truck on foot. If they weren't so terrified, they might have thought it was completely, mockingly, hopeless and utterly ridiculous. But all it really did was light a fire under their feet and make them run faster, ignoring the weakness in their right leg and the burning pain of <em>everything</em> that was <em>wrong</em> with them.</p>
<p>They jumped and their pads brushed against coarse bark. But they weren't seeking shelter in the willow tree, no. It was just a springboard, a wall and they used it like one. Back before the end of the world, they'd seen plenty of action movies and even toyed around with martial arts for a little while. It was all good fun but none of it really stuck with them. What had really stolen their heart, even if they'd never had a chance to practice it... was parkour. This time, the bear seemed to understand that it was going to crash into the tree and it managed to stop itself before it could bulldoze another piece of the forest, possibly adding more splinters to the fancy collection it was probably gathering inside of its nose.</p>
<p>This time it reared up, snapping at their back. That was a horrible mistake on the bear's part, they would have felt bad for it, if it hadn't almost killed them nearly a dozen times before that point. Instead, they flung their weight backwards and tucked into a ball, soaring over the horrible creature's head. They'd never practiced parkour before the end of the world, but as a reaper, they'd gotten used to moving with speed and precision. They'd learned how to adapt to a situation at a moment's notice and how to change position while they were still mid flight. So they uncurled and twisted, ignoring the screaming pain in their body as they raked their claws over the beast's neck.</p>
<p>There was something grim and satisfying about feeling the vibrations ripping up their arm as they carved through bone and sinew, knowing that it would be dead before it hit the ground. There was something less than satisfying about tumbling into ripped up earth and leaf litter a moment later and scrambling out of the way as the thing nearly collapsed right on top of them. An infected bear... fuck... an infected bear... After the pain began to settle, they couldn't help but tilt their head slightly as they regarded their once fierce opponent. Maybe it was the throbbing headache behind their ears or the blood loss or any number of things wrong with them after fighting the thing. But the only real thing that came to mind as they poked at the now very dead and likely to stay that way grizzly bear was... <em>Huh... Wonder if it's still edible.  </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Seriously? You survive a murder grizzly and your first reaction is... huh, wonder if I can eat it?<br/>*Sighs.* I blame the not quite sonic weapon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Echo really isn't thinking clearly.<br/>They manage to fight off their instincts long enough to do something smart.<br/>Both Gaster and Fuku are pissed off and horrified.<br/>Grillby is worried.<br/>And Echo really spends too much time in their own head.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Disclaimer: Undertale owned by Toby Fox</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somewhere between wondering if it was still edible and trying to figure out the logistics behind dragging half a ton of bear several miles back to camp... Echo realized that they weren't thinking clearly anymore. Granted, they probably should have figured it out sooner but that annoying instinctual part of their brain was digging its heels in. They didn't want to leave it behind, it was confusing and irritating. A part of them was insisting that this was its own twisted sort of justice. The bear wanted to eat them and they'd killed it so now they got to eat the bear. It even made a sort of primal logic that twisted at their sense of reason in all of the worst ways. They wanted to bring it back to camp, back to the others, their friends, their pack.</p>
<p>Echo growled and pawed at their face, barely restraining themself enough to avoid using their claws. No, they couldn't bring it back in their condition, not without leaving a very obvious trail or taking it back in pieces and their instincts shrieked in protest to that thought. <em>Rip up their prize?</em> <em>Never! This was their kill! Their victory! They would drag it back, reveal the fearsome beast in its full glory. Then the pack would...</em> Not a pack... not a pack... They'd killed it, they'd survived and they were <em>proud</em> of that fact. No, they couldn't bring it back, it was too big. <em>But... trophies....</em> Some snarling, petulant part of them whined. Or perhaps the snarl was them, they were pretty sure there'd been some kind of vibration in their chest for a second there.</p>
<p>Thinking about it wasn't helping, their instincts were tying their brain in knots and they couldn't take it back. But they couldn't leave it out in the open either, it would attract scavengers, carrion eaters. And what would happen if it was eaten by a non infected creature? Frustrated and feeling trapped, Echo did the only thing they could think to do. They started digging in the shadow of the willow tree, tearing into the earth with the full weight and fervor of all the primal feelings that were threatening to overwhelm them. Bury it, yes, bury it and then show the others. Too risky to take it back to camp, the safety of the pack came first... hide it for now, come back later with Grillby.</p>
<p>There was something raw and unrefined in the back of their mind, similar to a plan but something they didn't dare giving more thought to. If they admitted to the vague sense of what they had to do next, their instincts would start railing against it immediately. So they dug and when the hole was deep enough, they pawed at the ground underneath the grizzly bear until it tumbled into place. There was no specific reason they left the corpse uncovered, none at all. There was no specific reason they were showing Grillby first instead of Gaster or Fuku. Grillby made things, he cooked! He fed everyone... yeah.... he handled the meat... That was his place in their little social hierarchy, their instincts understood that part. And with a notable rush of relief, they allowed themself to latch onto that one thing above everything else. And if the hole was just the right size and depth for a rapid cremation... that was only a coincidence... right?</p>
<p>The trip back to camp passed them in a blur, lost to the rapid thrum of their heart and the rush of their hunting instincts. By the time they reached the wall, they could already see the elemental, hauling firewood along with Fuku. If they'd been fully coherent, they would have announced themself, they would have touched down inside of the camp first and then approached Grillby. But they weren't fully coherent and that thought hadn't come to them until after they'd launched themself towards him with a mental shriek that was entirely too excited and energetic for the given situation. <strong><em>"Grillby!!!!"</em></strong>  There had been roughly enough time for him to pause and turn towards them before being knocked off his feet an instant later. And Echo now had a face full of fire elemental, sparking in every startled and irritable color they'd ever seen from him.</p>
<p>It was just a good thing he hadn't been wearing his new shirt, they'd have felt bad for getting blood on that. Then Fuku was fussing over them and Grillby went from being annoyed to worried. Then Gaster was there, smelling like herbs and trying to convince them to let him tend to their wounds. Wounds? Oh hey, that was right, the bear had actually hit them once or twice! Nasty bear, it got what it deserved. But that was fine! Because, because they'd killed it and now they got to show Grillby! They'd never fought an infected Grizzly before. Still delirious and off center, they let Gaster drag them off of the elemental but they didn't go very far. Instead they sat down next to the worried elemental and started poking at him with a big grin on their face while he stared at them, clearly alarmed.</p>
<p>The skeleton was getting irritated, silly skeleton, they didn't need help, they never bled that much. Instead of sitting still, they rocked slightly, focusing on Grillby rather than Fuku or Gaster. <strong><em>"Hey, hey Grillby, there's a bear, you think we can eat it?"</em></strong> It wasn't the elemental that answered them, instead it was Gaster. He'd risen his voice, that wasn't nice, their ears were sensitive. <em>'Seriously!?!?! You survive a murder grizzly and the first thing you think to ask is if you can eat it!?!?'</em> They turned to look at him and tilted their head slightly, confused. Huh? How did he know it was a murder grizzly, were they thinking out loud? Both Gaster and Fuku shouted at them in unison, both worried, both upset. <em>"Yes!!!"</em> Oh, that explained a few things. But the bear, they had to... <em>Grillby....</em> they'd left it unburied, scavengers would get it if they didn't hurry.</p>
<p>Everyone froze up at that and Echo couldn't help but glance around, confused. There was something fuzzy in the back of their mind, something telling them that scavengers finding the bear was worse than bad. But it was already bad, the pack wouldn't have as much to eat if scavengers got to it first. Then Grillby was hauling them to their feet and Gaster was glaring daggers at the both of them. The older elemental didn't talk very much, not when he could help it, so the fact that he actually spoke to them snapped at their attention. He sounded focused and urgent, something that dragged at their rational mind and helped them push back the incoherent mess inside of their head. "Where?" And they'd been forced to tell them everything.</p>
<p>The plan was simple, they'd go back to camp and get Grillby. But actually getting the elemental to the bear carcass was a lot harder than they'd accounted for. Gaster didn't want to let them out of camp and while he was easy enough to outrun or outmaneuver on foot, that pesky blue magic meant that when he said sit, they either sat or he'd force them to. So they had to wait for him to stitch up their wounds and after that he nearly started a war over whether or not they should risk going out at all. Thankfully, in the end, common sense out won caution and by that point they were feeling a little less like an excited puppy and more like an actual person. They'd been given something to eat and drink and a few minutes rest while Gaster argued with Grillby.</p>
<p>Then the two of them set out and Echo was grateful that the older elemental was fast enough to keep up with them on foot. Because now that the adrenaline was wearing off, they really didn't like the idea of carrying him. If experience had taught them anything, he was actually really heavy and his temperament wasn't ideal for being a passenger. Grillby moved around too much, he hated being held and they had wounds that were going to start aching sooner rather than later.</p>
<p>Their instincts had started dying down now that the rush of the hunt wasn't quite as pressing a concern. Even so, there was something viscerally satisfying about running <em>with</em> someone. And not just anyone either, a member of their... it wasn't a pack... but what <em>were</em> they exactly? Not friends, it was more than that, they cared for each of the magic kin far too much. Calling them friends felt like such an understatement but it was far too presumptuous to call them family. Gaster didn't mind but what about the others? Something bitter and painful twisted inside of their soul as they remembered all of the times Grillby had glared at them, how protective he was of Fuku and Gaster while they were around. True, he'd calmed down recently and wasn't quite as harsh anymore but feelings like that didn't just go away. They'd never admitted to either of the elementals how they truly felt... and... they weren't going to.</p>
<p>A pulse of concern rippled from the elemental following them and Echo brushed away the wounded feeling in their soul, upping the pace slightly with a pulse of focus and dismissal. If he was worried about anything, it was probably about them going rabid or something. He didn't care about them, they were just a tool, they wished it didn't hurt so much to admit it. It felt like they reached the bear carcass far too quickly for their tastes but if nothing else, it gave them an excuse to leave him on his own for a while. Their instincts weren't as loud inside of their head anymore but they didn't know for certain if that would change once he got to work. Another quick survey of the area, maybe they'd find something else to hunt. Yes, another kill, something smaller and easier to haul around. Magic kin had inventories, if they had trouble carrying anything, he could help.</p>
<p>With that thought, they set off, feeling Grillby's eyes on them as they departed. At least he didn't ask where they were going or why. Explaining would have been hard, especially if they had to focus on the <em>why</em> involved with their choice in escort. Initially, Echo had meant it as a distraction and nothing more, something to keep them occupied. They hadn't expected to find a scent trail, much less follow it to a living and uninfected herd of deer. How far had they strayed from Grillby? Did it matter? How many deer could they kill? How many could they haul back? Enough, more than enough. Tanks were binge eaters. They could be forced to go for extended periods of time between meals and their mutated bodies required a lot to keep them going. It wasn't all that unusual for them to go on massive eating sprees, chewing through everything in their path to maintain their thick hides and heavy muscles.</p>
<p>As a matter of pride, Echo stalked through the trees, keeping downwind of the herd while they scoped it out for any doe without fauns. Or any bucks that looked easy enough to take down and large enough to provide a decent meal. They wouldn't kill a mother with a child, killing a mother doe was just plain cruel and taking down a young buck that hadn't had a chance to mate yet? Equally cruel. It took them a little while, but eventually they found a decent cluster to attack. There was a large buck near a group of doe, none of them mated. If they were quick enough, they could take the male and at least two of the females before the herd scattered. The wind changed, carrying with it the scent of burning meat and fur, Echo lunged without a second thought.</p>
<p>It was a bad jump, it was just lucky the herd had been looking the wrong way. The buck went down and they managed to kill one of the doe, crippling another by the time the others fled. There was a brief moment where another buck looked ready to charge them, but the moment they tackled the wounded female and broke her neck, he seemed to think better of it. What followed was one of the most intense stare downs they'd had in their entire life, silent as the grave. If they hadn't known any better, they would have thought he was angry, more than just over the loss of a potential mate. But animals didn't think on the same level as people and the buck turned to flee. There was a moment where they thought of taking him but he was still young, he still had more to offer the forest. They weren't cruel and Echo already had plenty to bring back with Grillby. It was just another day in the forest, another large predator had died and three more animals had followed it to feed something even more dangerous.</p>
<p>The elemental was surprised to see them hauling the three animals back towards him along the forest floor, not that it bothered them. They'd hunted and found something worthwhile, they were able to look at the cinders and ashes in the pit without feeling upset about it. The bear was infected, it wasn't safe to eat. Just as well they'd burned it, burying it wouldn't have been enough. If another bear had come along and found the carcass, it might have lead to a rash of new infections. So Echo set about filling the hole and the two of them returned to camp with the spoils of a successful hunt. If only Fuku and Gaster could have seen the good that came of it.</p>
<p>Instead, they were forced to sit through another round of inspections and bandage changes and then ordered to bed. Neither would take no for an answer, though Gaster at least promised them that he would remember to treat some of the meat they'd collected. That was good enough for Echo, though they mourned their freedom with the knowledge that if they wanted to leave the camp any time soon, they would have to sneak out. Grillby and Fuku wouldn't like that, Gaster wouldn't like it either but at least he would understand why they'd left. The tank... their little white lie, a dangerous secret to keep... they hoped it wouldn't come back to bite them. Hehe... that was a bad joke...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I would like to apologize for the extended dry spell.<br/>I haven't been sleeping well and as a result I haven't been able to focus on my writing.<br/>This isn't a promise that I'll be updating again on a regular basis as my sleep schedule has taken a nose dive into unhealthy.<br/>But I will be continuing the Undertale: Left for dead timeline.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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